THE  UNIVERSITY 
* $ i QFJLLINOIS 
.£*'  MBR&BY 

373.3 

T54 
v.  / 

ca*p.  2- 


GO 


* 


uJE?  toLb“k  °»  or  b.(„re  the 

charge  is  amped  below.  A 
book!  made  »“  overdue 

aHSSi'V  °<  blinoi,  LiK 


^ ^ ; ^ # -a>  i ~7 


nC*p  for 


Mi  15 


Id 


i LI/ 


JUL  -2  ms 

APR  Op  ttte 

APR  2 1 »l& 


JUL  P4  for/ 


' V-  J <jf 


rn  -?  o ! 0 rj; 

i r jl  > - i v j|  * 


JRH  -i^0 

Oct  o<)  ?Q(fl 

°ho / 


WL  1 


M32 


Wvitin$6  of  Jojjn  iFtoke 


A HISTORY  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES  FOR  SCHOOLS. 
With  Topical  Analysis,  Suggestive  Questions  and  Directions 
for  Teachers,  by  Frank  A.  Hill. 

CIVIL  GOVERNMENT  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES.  Con- 
sidered with  some  Reference  to  its  Origins.  With 
Questions  on  the  Text  by  Frank  A.  Hill,  and  Bibliograph- 
ical Notes. 

THE  WAR  OF  INDEPENDENCE.  In  Riverside  Literature 
Series,  No.  62. 

THE  DISCOVERY  AND  SPANISH  CONQUEST  OF  AMER- 
ICA. With  Maps. 

OLD  VIRGINIA  AND  HER  NEIGHBOURS. 

THE  BEGINNINGS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  or,  The  Puritan 
Theocracy  in  its  Relations  to  Civil  and  Religious  Liberty. 

The  Same.  Illustrated  Edition.  Containing  Portraits,  Maps, 
Facsimiles,  Contemporary  Views,  Prints,  and  Other  Historic 
Materials. 

THE  DUTCH  AND  QUAKER  COLONIES.  2 vols. crown 8vo. 

THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION.  2 vols. 

The  Same.  Illustrated  Edition.  Containing  Portraits,  Maps, 
Facsimiles,  Contemporary  Views,  Prints,  and  Other  Historic 
Materials.  2 vols. 

THE  CRITICAL  PERIOD  OF  AMERICAN  HISTORY.  1783- 
1789. 

The  Same.  Illustrated  Edition.  Containing  Portraits,  Maps, 
Facsimiles,  Contemporary  Views,  Prints,  and  Other  Historic 
Materials. 

THE  DESTINY  OF  MAN,  viewed  in  the  Light  of  His  Origin. 

THE  IDEA  OF  GOD,  as  affected  by  Modern  Knowledge.  A 
Sequel  to  “ The  Destiny  of  Man.” 

THROUGH  NATURE  TO  GOD. 

MYTHS  AND  MYTH-MAKERS.  Old  Tales  and  Superstitions 
interpreted  by  Comparative  Mythology. 

OUTLINES  OF  COSMIC  PHILOSOPHY.  Based  on  the  Doc- 
trine of  Evolution,  with  Criticisms  on  the  Positive  Philosophy. 

THE  UNSEEN  WORLD,  and  other  Essays. 

EXCURSIONS  OF  AN  EVOLUTIONIST. 

DARWINISM,  and  Other  Essays. 

AMERICAN  POLITICAL  IDEAS. 

HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 
\ Boston,  New  York,  and  Chicago 

V 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 
(Cbe  fitoer?ide  pee??  Cambrib0e 


COPYRIGHT,  1891,  BY  JOHN  FISKE 
COPYRIGHT,  I919,  BY  ABBY  M.  FISKE 


ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


17  >v\aA 


m3, 3 
fj-t 


V-  \ 


7^ 


To 


MRS.  MARY  HEMENWAY 


IN  RECOGNITION  OF  THE  RARE  FORESIGHT  AND  PUBLIC  SPIRIT 
WHICH  SAVED  FROM  DESTRUCTION  ONE  OF  THE  NOBLEST 
HISTORIC  BUILDINGS  IN  AMERICA,  AND  MADE  IT  A 
CENTRE  FOR  THE  TEACHING  OF  AMERICAN 
HISTORY  AND  THE  PRINCIPLES  OF 
GOOD  CITIZENSHIP 

I DEDICATE  THIS  BOOK 


5»* 

ri 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016  with  funding  from 

University  of  Illinois  Urbana-Champaign  Alternates 


https://archive.org/details/americanrevoluti01fisk_0 


PREFACE. 


In  the  course  of  my  work  as  assistant  librarian 
of  Harvard  University,  about  seventeen  years  ago, 
I had  occasion  to  overhaul  what  we  used  to  call  the 
“ American  Room,”  and  to  superintend  or  revise 
the  cataloguing  of  some  thousands  of  titles  of  vol- 
umes and  pamphlets  relating  to  America.  In  the 
course  of  this  work  my  attention  was  called  more 
and  more  to  sundry  problems  and  speculations 
connected  with  the  transplantation  of  European 
communities  to  American  soil,  their  development 
under  the  new  conditions,  and  the  effect  of  all  this 
upon  the  general  progress  of  civilization.  The 
study  of  aboriginal  America  itself  presented  many 
other  interesting  problems.  In  1879,  1881,  and 
1882,  I gave  courses  of  lectures  at  the  Old  South 
Meeting-House  in  Boston,  in  aid  of  the  fund  for 
the  preservation  of  that  venerable  building,  and  in 
pursuance  of  Mrs.  Hemenway’s  scheme  for  making 
it  a place  for  the  teaching  of  American  history. 
As  to  the  success  of  that  scheme  we  may  now 
speak  with  some  satisfaction.  The  preservation  of 


vi 


PREFACE. 


the  noble  old  church  may  be  regarded  as  assured ; 
the  courses  of  instruction  there  given  in  American 
history  and  cognate  subjects  are  attended  by  thou- 
sands, old  and  young,  especially  by  school-teachers 
and  their  pupils;  and  similar  courses  of  study 
have  already  been  inaugurated  in  several  other 
cities  and  towns.  It  is  believed  that  the  good 
results  of  this  work  will  be  manifold. 

As  regards  my  lectures,  just  mentioned,  they 
dealt  chiefly  with  the  discovery  and  colonization  of 
America,  and  contained  sundry  generalizations 
since  embodied  in  “ American  Political  Ideas  ” 
and  in  the  first  chapter  of  “The  Beginnings  of 
New  England.”  Some  further  generalizations  of 
a similar  sort  will  be  worked  out  in  my  forthcom- 
ing book  — now  in  press  — “ The  Discovery  of 
America.” 

While  busy  in  this  work,  the  plan  occurred  to 
me  in  1881  of  writing  a narrative  history  of  the 
United  States,  neither  too  long  to  be  manageable 
nor  too  brief  to  be  interesting,  something  that 
might  comprise  the  whole  story  from  1492  to  (say) 
1865  within  four  octavos,  like  the  book  of  my 
lamented  friend,  the  late  John  Richard  Green. 
Plans  of  this  sort,  to  be  properly  carried  out,  re- 
quire much  time,  and  a concurrence  of  favourable 
circumstances,  as  Mr.  Cotter  Morison  has  pointed 
out  in  his  sketch  of  Gibbon.  If  my  plan  is  ever 
fully  realized,  it  can  only  be  after  many  years. 


PREFACE . 


vii 


Meanwhile  it  has  seemed  to  me  that  fragments  of 
the  work  might  as  well  be  published  from  time  U 
time  as  to  be  lying  idle  in  manuscript  in  a cup- 
board. It  was  with  this  feeling  that  “ The  Criti- 
cal Period  of  American  History  ” and  “ The  Be- 
ginnings of  New  England  ” were  brought  out,  and 
it  is  with  the  same  feeling  that  these  volumes  on 
“ The  American  Revolution  ” are  now  offered  to 
the  public. 

In  writing  the  story  of  this  period  my  design 
was  not  so  much  to  contribute  new  facts  as  to 
shape  the  narrative  in  such  a way  as  to  emphasize 
relations  of  cause  and  effect  that  are  often  buried 
in  the  mass  of  details.  One  is  constantly  tempted, 
in  such  a narrative,  to  pause  for  discussion,  and  to 
add  item  upon  item  of  circumstantial  description 
because  it  is  interesting  in  itself ; but  in  conform- 
ity with  the  plan  of  the  book  of  which  this  was  to 
have  been  a part,  it  was  necessary  to  withstand 
such  temptations.  I have  not  even  undertaken  to 
mention  all  the  events  of  the  Revolutionary  War. 
For  example,  nothing  is  said  about  the  Penobscot 
expedition,  which  was  a matter  of  interest  to  the 
people  of  Massachusetts,  but  of  no  significance  in 
relation  to  the  general  history  of  the  war. 

The  present  work  is  in  no  sense  “ based  upon  ” 
lectures,  but  it  has  been  used  as  a basis  for  lec- 
tures. When  I had  nearly  finished  writing  it,  in 
1888,  I happened  to  read  a few  passages  to  some 


PEE  FACE. 


Viii 

friends,  and  was  thereupon  urged  to  read  the 
whole  work,  or  the  greater  part  of  it,  as  lec- 
tures. 

This  was  done  in  the  Old  South  Meeting-House 
early  in  1884.  The  lectures  were  afterward  given 
in  many  towns  and  cities,  from  Maine  to  Oregon, 
usually  to  very  large  audiences.  In  Boston,  New 
York,  and  St.  Louis  the  whole  course  was  given 
from  two  to  five  times;  and  single  lectures  were 
repeated  in  many  places.  I was  greatly  surprised 
at  the  interest  thus  shown  in  a plain  narrative  of 
events  already  well  known,  and  have  never  to  this 
day  understood  the  secret  of  it. 

On  some  accounts  I should  have  been  glad  to 
withhold  this  book  some  years  longer,  in  the  hope 
of  changing  its  plan  somewhat  and  giving  the  sub- 
ject a fuller  treatment,  now  that  it  is  not  to  appear 
as  part  Gf  a larger  work.  But  so  many  requests 
have  been  made  for  the  story  in  book  form  that  it 
has  seemed  best  to  yield  to  them.  In  relation  to 
these  two  volumes,  “ The  Critical  Period  of  Ameri- 
can History  ” now  stands  as  a third  volume.  The 
narrative  is  continuous  from  the  one  to  the  other. 

I have  not  thought  it  worth  while  to  add  to  the 
present  work  a bibliographical  note,  because,  in 
view  of  the  existence  of  Mr.  Justin  Winsor’s 
“ Reader’s  Handbook  of  the  American  Revolu- 
tion,” such  a note  would  be  quite  superfluous.  Mr. 
Winsor’s  book  contains  a vast  amount  of  biblio- 


PREFACE . 


graphical  information,  most  lucidly  arranged, 
within  a very  small  compass,  and  costs  but  a trifle. 
From  it  the  general  reader  can  find  out  “ where  to 
go  ” for  further  information  concerning  any  and 
all  points  that  may  come  up  in  these  volumes ; and 
if  then  he  still  wants  more,  he  may  consult  the 
sixth  and  seventh  volumes  of  WinsoFs  “Narrative 
and  Critical  History  of  America.” 


t 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  BEGINNINGS. 

PAOB 

Relations  between  the  American  colonies  and  the  Brit- 
ish government  in  the  first  half  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 


tury 

The  Lords  of  Trade 

• 

. 2 

The  governors’  salaries . • • • 

• 

• 

. 3 

Sir  Robert  Walpole 

• 

4 

Views  of  the  Lords  of  Trade  as  to  the  need  for  a union 

of  the  colonies 

Weakness  of  the  sentiment  of  union  • • 

• 

. 6 

The  Albany  Congress  .... 

• 

• 

. 7 

Franklin’s  plan  for  a federal  union  (1754) 

• 

. 8,9 

Rejection  of  Franklin’s  plan  . . • 

• 

• 

. 10 

Shirley  recommends  a stamp  act  • • 

• 

. 11 

The  writs  of  assistance  . • • • 

• 

• 

. 12 

The  chief  justice  of  New  York  . • • 

• 

. 13 

Otis’s  “ Vindication  ” • • • 

• 

• 

. 14 

Expenses  of  the  French  War  • « • 

• 

. 15 

Grenville’s  resolves  • • • . 

• 

• 

. 10 

Reply  of  the  colonies . • • • • 

• 

. 17 

Passage  of  the  Stamp  Act  . • • 

• 

• 

17,18 

Patrick  Henry  and  the  Parsons’  Cause  • 

# 

. 18,  19 

Resolutions  of  Virginia  concerning  the  Stamp 

Act 

. 20 

The  Stamp  Act  Congress  .... 

• 

. 21,  22 

Declaration  of  the  Massachusetts  assembly 

• 

• 

. 22 

Resistance  to  the  Stamp  Act  in  Boston  • 

• 

. 23 

And  in  New  York  .... 

. 

• 

. 24 

Debate  in  the  House  of  Commons  . • 

• 

. 25,  26 

xii 


CONTENTS ’ 


Repeal  of  the  Stamp  Act  • . . . . 27 

The  Duke  of  Grafton’s  ministry  . . . • 28 

Charles  Townshend  and  his  revenue  acts  • . 29451 

Attack  upon  the  New  York  assembly  . . .31,  32 

Parliament  did  not  properly  represent  the  British  peo- 
ple   32,  33 

Difficulty  of  the  problem  ......  34 

Representation  of  Americans  in  Parliament  . . 35 

Mr.  Gladstone  and  the  Boers  • • . . 36, 37 

Death  of  Townshend 38 

His  politic*!  legacy  to  George  III 38 

Character  of  George  III 39,  40 

English  parties  between  1760  and  1784 . • • .41 

George  III.  as  a politician 42 

His  chief  reason  for  quarrelling  with  the  Americans  43-45 

CHAPTER  II. 

THE  CRISIS. 

Character  of  Lord  North 46 

John  Dickinson  and  the  “ Farmer’s  Letters  ” . 47 

The  Massachusetts  circular  letter 48 

Lord  Hillsborough’s  instructions  to  Bernard  . . 49 

The  “ Illustrious  Ninety-Two  ” 50 

Impressment  of  citizens 51 

Affair  of  the  sloop  Liberty 51,  52 

Statute  of  Henry  VIII.  concerning  “ treason  committed 

abroad  ” 53 

Samuel  Adams  makes  up  his  mind  (1768)  • • 54-57 

Arrival  of  troops  in  Boston 58,  59 

Letters  of  “ Vindex  ”•••••-••60 

Debate  in  Parliament 60-62 

All  the  Townshend  acts,  except  the  one  imposing  a duty 

upon  tea,  to  be  repealed 62 

Recall  of  Governor  Bernard 62 

Character  of  Thomas  Hutchinson  . . • .63 

Resolutions  of  Virginia  concerning  the  Townshend  acts  64 
Conduct  of  the  troops  in  Boston 65 


CONTENTS. 


xin 


Assault  on  James  Otis 
The  “ Boston  Massacre  ” 

Some  of  its  lessons  .... 
Lord  North  becomes  prime  minister 
Action  of  the  New  York  merchants  . 
Assemblies  convened  in  strange  places 
Taxes  in  Maryland  .... 
The  “ Regulators”  in  North  Carolina 


65 

66-68 

69-72 

. 71 

73 
. 74 

74 
. 75 

76 
. 77 
78 
. 79 
80 

. 81 


Affair  of  the  schooner  Gaspee  .... 

The  salaries  of  the  Massachusetts  judges  • • 

Jonathan  Mayhew’s  suggestion  (1766) 

The  committees  of  correspondence  in  Massachusetts 
Intercolonial  committees  of  correspondence 
Revival  of  the  question  of  taxation 
The  king’s  ingenious  scheme  for  tricking  the  Americans 
into  buying  the  East  India  Company’s  tea  • . 82,  83 

How  Boston  became  the  battle-ground  . . . .84 

Advice  solemnly  sought  and  given  by  the  Massachusetts 

towns 84, 85 

Arrival  of  the  tea  ; meeting  at  the  Old  South  • . 85-87 

The  tea-ships  placed  under  guard 87 

Rotch’s  dilatory  manoeuvres 88 

Great  town-meeting  at  the  Old  South  ...  89,  90 

The  tea  thrown  into  the  harbour  ....  90 

Moral  grandeur  of  the  scene  . • . • 91,  92 

How  Parliament  received  the  news  ....  93,  94 
The  Boston  Port  Bill  .......  95 

The  Regulating  Act 95,  96 

Act  relating  to  the  shooting  of  citizens  . • • . 96 

The  quartering  of  troops  in  towns  . ...  97 

The  Quebec  Act  97 

General  Gage  sent  to  Boston 97,  98 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  CONTINENTAL  CONGRESS. 

Protests  of  the  Whig  Lords 100 

Belief  that  the  Americans  would  not  fight . « • 101 


xiv 


CONTENTS. 


Belief  that  Massachusetts  would  not  be  supported  by 
the  other  colonies  .......  102 

News  of  the  Port  Bill 102,  103 

Samuel  Adams  at  Salem 104,  105 

Massachusetts  nullifies  the  Regulating  Act  • • • 106 

John  Hancock  and  Joseph  Warren  ....  107 

The  Suffolk  County  Resolves 108 

Provincial  Congress  in  Massachusetts  • . . 109 

First  meeting  of  the  Continental  Congress  (September 

5, 1774) 110 

Debates  in  Parliament  ......  Ill,  112 

William  Howe  appointed  commander-in-chief  of  the 

forces  in  America 112 

Richard,  Lord  Howe,  appointed  admiral  of  the  fleet . 113 

Franklin  returns  to  America .114 

State  of  feeling  in  the  middle  colonies  . . .115 

Lord  North’s  mistaken  hopes  of  securing  New  York  . 116 

Affairs  in  Massachusetts 117 

Dr.  Warren’s  oration  at  the  Old  South  ....  118 
Attempt  to  corrupt  Samuel  Adams  . • • .119 

Orders  to  arrest  Adams  and  Hancock  ....  120 

Paul  Revere’s  ride 121 

Pitcairn  fires  upon  the  yeomanry  at  Lexington  . . 122 

The  troops  repulsed  at  Concord  ; their  dangerous  situa- 
tion   123 

The  retreating  troops  rescued  by  Lord  Percy  . . 124 

Retreat  continued  from  Lexington  to  Charlestown  . 125 
Rising  of  the  country  ; the  British  besieged  in  Boston  126 
Effects  of  the  news  in  England  and  in  America  • . 127 

Mecklenburg  County  Resolves 128 

Legend  of  the  Mecklenburg  “ Declaration  of  Indepen- 
dence ” 129 

Benedict  Arnold  and  Ethan  Allen  . • • 129,  '£  0 

Capture  of  Ticonderoga  and  Crown  Point  . • • 131 

Second  meeting  oi  the  Continental  Congress  • . 132 

Appointment  of  George  Washington  to  command  the 
Continental  army  ••••••  133-136 

The  siege  of  Boston • 136 

Gage’s  proclamation 137 


CONTENTS. 


XV 


The  Americans  occupy  Bunker’s  and  Breed’s  hills 
Arrival  ot  Putnam,  Stark,  and  Warren  • • 

Gage  decides  to  try  an  assault  . • • • 

First  assault  repulsed 

Second  assault  repulsed  . • • • • 

Prescott’s  powder  gives  out 

Third  assault  succeeds  ; the  British  take  the  hill 
British  and  American  losses  . . . . • 

Excessive  slaughter  ; significance  of  the  battle 
Its  moral  effects • 


. 138 

. 139 
. 140 

. 140 
. 141 

. 142 
. 142 

. 143 
144, 145 
. 146 


CHAPTER  IV. 

INDEPENDENCE. 

Washington’s  arrival  in  Cambridge  . 6 • 147 

Continental  officers : Daniel  Morgan  ♦ • • 148 

Benedict  Arnold,  John  Stark,  John  Sullivan . • . 149 

Nathanael  Greene,  Henry  Knox  . • • . 150 

Israel  Putnam  ........  151 

Horatio  Gates  and  Charles  Lee  . • • • 151 

Lee’s  personal  peculiarities  . • . • • 152,  153 

Dr.  Benjamin  Church 153 

Difficult  work  for  Washington  • • • • 154-156 

Absence  of  governmental  organization  . . . 156 

New  government  of  Massachusetts  (July,  1775)  . . 157 

Congress  sends  a last  petition  to  the  king  . . 158,  159 

The  king  issues  a proclamation,  and  tries  to  hire  troops 

from  Russia i60 

Catherine  refuses  ; the  king  hires  German  troops  . . 161 

Indignation  in  Germany 162 

Burning  of  Falmouth  (Portland)  . • • • . 163 

Effects  of  all  this  upon  Congress  • • • . 164 

Montgomery’s  invasion  of  Canada  and  capture  of  Mon- 
treal .........  165 

Arnold’s  march  through  the  wilderness  of  Maine  . 166 

Assault  upon  Quebec  (December  31,  1775)  . • 167 

Total  failure  of  the  attempt  upon  Canada  . • . 168 

The  siege  of  Boston 169 


XVI 


CONTENTS . 


Washington  seizes  Dorchester  Heights  (March  4, 1776)  170 
The  British  troops  evacuate  Boston  (March  17)  . 171 

Movement  toward  independence  ; a provisional  flag 

(January  1,  1776) 172 

Effect  of  the  hiring  of  “ myrmidons  ” . . . .172 

Thomas  Paine 173 

His  pamphlet  entitled  “ Common  Sense  ” . . .174 

Fulminations  and  counter-fulminations  . . .175 

The  Scots  in  North  Carolina 176 

Sir  Henry  Clinton  sails  for  the  Carolinas  . . . 176 

The  fight  at  Moore’s  Creek  ; North  Carolina  declares 

for  independence 177 

Action  of  South  Carolina  and  Georgia  ....  178 
Affairs  in  Virginia  ; Lord  Dunmore’s  proclamation  . 178 

Skirmish  at  the  Great  Bridge,  and  burning  of  Norfolk  . 179 
Virginia  declares  for  independence  ....  180 

Action  of  Rhode  Island  and  Massachusetts  . . . 181 

Resolution  adopted  in  Congress  May  15  . . 181,  182 

Instructions  from  the  Boston  town-meeting  . . . 182 

Richard  Henry  Lee’s  motion  in  Congress  . • . 183 

Debate  on  Lee’s  motion  184 

Action  of  the  other  colonies  ; Connecticut  and  New 

Hampshire 185 

New  Jersey 185 

Pennsylvania  and  Delaware 185-187 

Maryland 187,  188 

The  situation  in  New  York  .....  188-190 

The  Tryon  plot 190 

Final  debate  on  Lee’s  motion 191 

Vote  on  Lee’s  motion 192 

Form  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence  . . .193 

Thomas  Jefferson 193,  194 

The  declaration  was  a deliberate  expression  of  the  sober 
thought  of  the  American  people  • • . 195-197 


CONTENTS . 


xvii 


CHAPTER  V. 

FIRST  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE. 

Lord  Cornwallis  arrives  upon  the  scene  . . . 198 

Battle  of  Fort  Moultrie  (June  28,  1776)  . . 199,  200 

British  plan  for  conquering  the  valley  of  the  Hudson, 
and  cutting  the  United  Colonies  in  twain  . . 201 

Lord  Howe’s  futile  attempt  to  negotiate  with  Washing- 
ton unofficially  . . . . . . 202, 203 

The  military  problem  at  New  York  . • • 204-206 

Importance  of  Brooklyn  Heights  .....  206 
Battle  of  Long  Island  (August  27, 1776)  . • 207-210 

Howe  prepares  to  besiege  the  Heights  ....  210 
But  Washington  slips  away  with  his  army  . . 211 

And  robs  the  British  of  the  most  golden  opportunity 

ever  offered  them . 212 

The  conference  at  Staten  Island 213 

General  Howe  takes  the  city  of  New  York  Septem- 
ber 15 . 214 

But  Mrs.  Lindley  Murray  saves  the  garrison  • . 215 

Attack  upon  Harlem  Heights 215 

The  new  problem  before  Howe  .....  216 

He  moves  upon  Throg’s  Neck,  but  Washington  changes 

base 217 

Baffled  at  White  Plains,  Howe  tries  a new  plan  . 217,  218 
Washington’s  orders  in  view  of  the  emergency  . . 218 

Congress  meddles  with  the  situation  and  muddles  it  . 219 
Howe  takes  Fort  Washington  by  storm  (November  16)  220 

Washington  and  Greene 221 

Outrageous  conduct  of  Charles  Lee  . . . 221,  222 

Greene  barely  escapes  from  Fort  Lee  (November  20)  . 223 
Lee  intrigues  against  Washington  ....  224 

Washington  retreats  into  Pennsylvania  . . 224,  225 

Reinforcements  come  from  Schuyler  ....  226 

Fortunately  for  the  Americans,  the  British  capture 
Charles  Lee  (December  13)  ....  226,  227 

The  times  that  tried  men’s  souls 228 

Washington  prepares  to  strike  back  . • • • 229 


xviii 


CONTENTS. 


He  crosses  the  Delaware,  and  pierces  the  British  centre 

at  Trenton  (December  26) 230 

Cornwallis  comes  up  to  retrieve  the  disaster  . . 231 

And  thinks  he  has  run  down  the  “ old  fox  ” at  the  As- 

sunpink  (January  2,  1777) 232 

But  Washington  prepares  a checkmate  . . . 232 

And  again  severs  the  British  line  at  Princeton  (Janu- 
ary 3)  233 

General  retreat  of  the  British  upon  New  York  • . 234 

The  tables  completely  turned  ....  235,  236 

Washington’s  superb  generalship 237 

Effects  in  England 233 

And  in  France 239 

Franklin’s  arrival  in  France 240 

Secret  aid  from  France  ......  241 

Lafayette  goes  to  America 242 

Efforts  toward  remodelling  the  Continental  army  243-248 

CHAPTER  VI. 

SECOND  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE. 

Invasion  of  New  York  by  Sir  Guy  Carleton  . . . 249 

Arnold’s  preparations 250 

Battle  of  Yalcour  Island  (October  11,  1776)  . . 251 

Congress  promotes  five  junior  brigadiers  over  Arnold 

(February  19,  1777) 252 

Character  of  Philip  Schuyler 253 

Horatio  Gates 254,  255 

Gates  intrigues  against  Schuyler  ....  256 

His  unseemly  behaviour  before  Congress  • • . 257 

Charges  against  Arnold  .....  257,  258 

Arnold  defeats  Tryon  at  Ridgefield  (April  27, 1777)  . 259 

Preparations  for  the  summer  campaign  . . . 260 

The  military  centre  of  the  United  States  was  the  state 

of  New  York 261 

A second  blow  was  to  be  struck  at  the  centre  ; the  plan 

of  campaign 262 

The  plan  was  unsound  ; it  separated  the  British  forces 


CONTENTS . 


XIX 


too  widely,  and  gave  the  Americans  the  advantage  of 
interior  lines  .......  263,  264 

Germaine’s  fatal  error ; he  overestimated  the  strength 

of  the  Tories  265 

Too  many  unknown  quantities  ....  265,  266 

Danger  from  New  England  ignored  ....  266 
Germaine’s  negligence  ; the  dispatch  that  was  never 

sent  . 267 

Burgoyne  advances  upon  Ticonderoga  . . • 268 

Phillips  seizes  Mount  Defiance 269 

Evacuation  of  Ticonderoga  ....  269,  270 

Battle  of  Hubbardton  (July  7) 270 

One  swallow  does  not  make  a summer  . • • 271 

The  king’s  glee  ; wrath  of  John  Adams  • • . 271 

Gates  was  chiefly  to  blame  . . • • • 272 

Burgoyne’s  difficulties  beginning 273 

Schuyler  wisely  evacuates  Fort  Edward  ...  273 

Enemies  gathering  in  Burgoyne’s  rear  ....  274 

Use  of  Indian  auxiliaries 275 

Burgoyne’s  address  to  the  chiefs 275 

Burke  ridicules  the  address  .....  276 

The  story  of  Jane  McCrea 277-279 

The  Indians  desert  Burgoyne 280 

Importance  of  Bennington  ; Burgoyne  sends  a German 

force  against  it 280,  281 

Stark  prepares  to  receive  the  Germans  ....  282 
Battle  of  Bennington  (August  16)  ; nearly  the  whole 
German  army  captured  on  the  field  . . . 283,  284 

Effect  of  the  news  ; Burgoyne’s  enemies  multiply  • 285 

Advance  of  St.  Leger  upon  Fort  Stanwix  . . • 286 

Herkimer  marches  against  him  ; Herkimer’s  plan  • 287 

Failure  of  the  plan 288 

Thayendanegea  prepares  an  ambuscade  . . . 288 

Battle  of  Oriskany  (August  6)  . . . . 289,  290 

Retreat  of  the  Tories 290 

Retreat  of  the  patriot  army 291 

Colonel  Willett’s  sortie ; first  hoisting  of  the  stars  and 
stripes  .........  291 

Death  of  Herkimer 292 


XX 


CONTENTS. 


Arnold  arrives  at  Schuyler’s  camp  . . 

And  volunteers  to  retrieve  Fort  Stanwix  . 

Yan  Yost  Cuyler  and  his  stratagem  .... 
Flight  of  St.  Leger  (August  22)  .... 

Burgoyne’s  dangerous  situation 

Schuyler  superseded  by  Gates  ....  296, 

Position  of  the  two  armies  (August  19-September  12) 

297, 


293 

294 

295 

295 

296 

297 

298 


CHAPTER  VII. 


SARATOGA. 


Why  Sir  William  Howe  went  to  Chesapeake  Bay  . 299 

Charles  Lee  in  captivity 300 

Treason  of  Charles  Lee 301-303 


Folly  of  moving  upon  Philadelphia  as  the  “ rebel  capi- 
tal” . . 303,304 

Effect  of  Lee’s  advice  ......  305 


Washington’s  masterly  campaign  in  New  Jersey  (June, 

1777) 306 

Uncertainty  as  to  Howe’s  next  movements  . . . 307 

Howe’s  letter  to  Burgoyne  ....  308,  309 

Comments  of  Washington  and  Greene  ....  310 
Howe’s  alleged  reason  trumped  up  and  worthless  . 310 

Burgoyne’s  fate  was  practically  decided  when  Howe 


arrived  at  Elkton 

Washington’s  reasons  for  offering  battle 
He  chooses  a very  strong  position  . . . 

Battle  of  the  Brandywine  (September  11)  . 

Washington’s  skill  in  detaining  the  enemy 
The  British  enter  Philadelphia  (September  26) 
Significance  of  Forts  Mercer  and  Mifflin  . 

The  situation  at  Germantown  . . . . 

Washington’s  audacious  plan  .... 
Battle  of  Germantown  (October  4) 

Howe  captures  Forts  Mercer  and  Mifflin  . 
Burgoyne  recognizes  the  fatal  error  of  Germain  . 
Nevertheless  he  crosses  the  Hudson  River 


. 311 

. 312 
. 313 

313-316 
. 317 

. 317 
. 318 

318,  319 
. 320 

321-323 
. 324 

. 325 
. 326 


CONTENTS. 


xxi 


First  battle  at  Freeman’s  Farm  (September  19)  . 326,  327 
Quarrel  between  Gates  and  Arnold  ....  328 

Burgoyne’s  supplies  cut  off 329 

Second  battle  at  Freeman’s  Farm  (October  7)  ; the 
British  totally  defeated  by  Arnold  „ . . 330-332 

The  British  army  is  surrounded  . . . 333 

Sir  Henry  Clinton  comes  up  the  river,  but  it  is  too  late  334 

The  silver  bullet 335 

Burgoyne  surrenders  (October  17)  . . . 335-338 

Schuyler’s  magnanimity 338 

Bad  faith  of  Congress 339-342 

The  behaviour  of  Congress  was  simply  inexcusable  . 342 

What  became  of  the  captured  army  ....  343 

MAPS. 

Battle  of  Long  Island,  August  27,  1776,  from  Stedman’s 
American  War,  with  some  additions  . . . 208 

Operations  in  New  York  and  New  Jersey,  1776-1777, 

from  a sketch  by  the  author 218 

Burgoyne’s  campaign,  July-October,  1777,  ditto  . 262 

Battle  of  the  Brandywine,  September  11,  1777,  ditto  • 314 
Battle  of  Germantown,  October  4,  1777,  ditto  . . 320 

First  battle  at  Freeman’s  Farm,  September  19,  1777, 

ditto 326 

Second  battle  at  Freeman’s  Farm,  October  7, 1777,  also 
called  battle  of  Bemis  Heights,  or  of  Stillwater,  ditto  332 

Surrender  of  Burgoyne  at  Saratoga,  October  17,  1777, 
ditto 332 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


CHAPTER  L 
THE  BEGINNINGS. 

During  the  seventy  years  which  elapsed  between 
the  overthrow  of  the  Stuart  dynasty  and  the  vic- 
tory of  Wolfe  on  the  Heights  of  Abraham,  the 
relations  between  the  American  colonies  and  the 
British  government  were,  on  the  whole,  peaceful ; 
and  the  history  of  the  colonies,  except  for  the  great 
and  romantic  struggle  with  New  France,  would 
have  been  almost  destitute  of  striking  incidents.  In 
view  of  the  perpetual  menace  from  France,  it  was 
manifestly  unwise  for  the  British  government  to 
irritate  the  colonies,  or  do  anything  to  weaken  their 
loyalty ; and  they  were  accordingly  left  very  much 
to  themselves.  Still,  they  were  not  likely  to  be 
treated  with  any  great  liberality,  — for  such  was  not 
then,  as  it  is  hardly  even  yet,  the  way  of  govern- 
ments, — and  if  their  attachment  to  England  still 
continued  strong,  it  was  in  spite  of  the  general 
demeanour  of  the  mother  - country.  Since  1675 
the  general  supervision  of  the  colonies  had  been 
in  the  hands  of  a standing  committee  of  the 
Privy  Council,  styled  the  “ Lords  of  the  Com- 
mittee of  Trade  and  Plantations,”  and  familiarly 


2 THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 

known  as  the  “ Lords  of  Trade.”  To  this  board 
ihe  Loids  of  th0  governors  sent  frequent  and  full 
Trade.  reports  of  the  proceedings  in  the  colonial 

legislatures,  of  the  state  of  agriculture  and  trade, 
of  the  revenues  of  the  colonies,  and  of  the  way  in 
which  the  public  money  was  spent.  In  private  let- 
ters, too,  the  governors  poured  forth  their  com- 
plaints into  the  ears  of  the  Lords  of  Trade,  and  these 
complaints  were  many  and  loud.  Except  in  Penn- 
sylvania and  Maryland,  which  were  like  hereditary 
monarchies,  and  in  Connecticut  and  Rhode  Island, 
where  the  governors  were  elected  by  the  people, 
the  colonial  governors  were  now  invariably  ap- 
pointed by  the  Crown.  In  most  cases  they  were 
inclined  to  take  high  views  regarding  the  royal 
prerogative,  and  in  nearly  all  cases  they  were  un- 
able to  understand  the  political  attitude  of  the  col- 
onists, who  on  the  one  hand  gloried  in  their  connec- 
tion with  England,  and  on  the  other  hand,  precisely 
because  they  were  Englishmen,  were  unwilling  to 
yield  on  any  occasion  whatsoever  one  jot  or  tittle 
of  their  ancient  liberties.  Moreover,  through  the 
ubiquity  of  the  popular  assemblies  and  the  direct- 
ness of  their  control  over  the  administration  of 
public  affairs,  the  political  life  of  America  was  both 
really  and  ostensibly  freer  than  that  of  England 
was  at  that  time ; and  the  ancient  liberties  of  Eng- 
lishmen, if  not  better  preserved,  were  at  least  more 
conspicuously  asserted.  As  a natural  consequence, 
the  royal  governors  were  continually  trying  to  do 
things  which  the  people  would  not  let  them  do,  they 
were  in  a chronic  state  of  angry  warfare  with  their 
assemblies,  and  they  were  incessant  in  their  com- 


THE  BEGINNINGS . 


plaints  to  the  Lords  of  Trade.  They  represented 
the  Americans  as  factious  and  turbulent  people, 
with  their  heads  turned  by  queer  political  crotchets, 
unwilling  to  obey  the  laws,  and  eager  to  break  off 
their  connection  with  the  British  Empire.  In  this 
way  they  did  much  to  arouse  an  unfriendly  feeling 
toward  the  colonies,  although  eminent  Englishmen 
were  not  wanting  who  understood  American  affairs 
too  well  to  let  their  opinions  be  thus  lightly  influ- 
enced. Upon  the  Lords  of  Trade  these  misrepre- 
sentations wrought  with  so  much  effect  that  now 
and  then  they  would  send  out  instructions  to  sus- 
pend the  writ  of  habeas  corpus,  or  to  abridge 
the  freedom  of  the  press.  Sometimes  their  acts 
were  absurdly  arbitrary.  In  New  Hampshire,  the 
people  maintained  that  as  free-born  Englishmen 
they  had  the  right  to  choose  their  representatives ; 
but  the  governor  held,  on  the  contrary,  that  this 
was  no  right,  but  only  a privilege,  which  the  Crown 
might  withhold,  or  grant,  or  revoke,  all  at  its  own 
good  pleasure.  To  uphold  the  royal  prerogative, 
the  governor  was  instructed  to  issue  writs  for  elec- 
tions to  some  of  the  towns,  while  withholding  them 
from  others ; but  the  resistance  of  the  people  to  this 
piece  of  tyranny  was  so  determined  that  the  Lords 
of  Trade  thought  it  best  to  yield.  In  Massachu- 
setts, for  more  than  thirty  years,  there  went  on  an 
unceasing  controversy  between  the  General  Court 
and  the  successive  royal  governors,  Shute,  Burnet, 
and  Belcher,  with  reference  to  the  gov-  The  governor’® 
ernor’s  salary.  The  Lords  of  Trade  in-  8atary‘ 
sisted  that  the  governor  should  be  paid  a fixed 
salary ; but  lest  this  should  make  the  governor  too 


* THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 

independent,  the  General  Court  obstinately  refused 
to  establish  a salary,  but  made  grants  to  the  gov- 
ernor from  year  to  year,  in  imitation  of  the  time- 
honoured  usage  of  Parliament.  This  method  was, 
no  doubt,  inconvenient  for  the  governors ; but  the 
colonists  rightly  valued  it  as  one  of  the  safeguards 
of  popular  liberty,  and  to  their  persistent  refusal 
the  Crown  was  obliged  to  give  way.  Similar  con- 
troversies, in  New  York  and  South  Carolina,  were 
attended  with  similar  results ; while  in  Virginia  the 
assembly  more  than  once  refused  to  vote  supplies, 
on  the  ground  that  the  liberties  of  the  colony  were 
in  danger. 

Such  grievances  as  these,  reported  year  by  year 
to  the  Lords  of  Trade,  and  losing  nothing  in  the 
manner  in  which  they  were  told,  went  far  to  create 
in  England  an  opinion  that  America  was  a lawless 
country,  and  sorely  in  need  of  a strong  govern- 
ment. From  time  to  time  various  schemes  were 
proposed  for  limiting  the  powers  of  the  colonial 
assemblies,  for  increasing  the  power  of  the  gov- 
ernors, for  introducing  a titled  nobility,  for  taxing 
the  colonists  by  act  of  Parliament,  or  for  weakening 
the  feeling  of  local  independence  by  uniting  several 
colonies  into  one.  Until  after  the  French  troubles 
had  been  disposed  of,  little  came  of  any  of  these 
Bir  Robert  schemes.  A plan  for  taxing  the  colonies 
waipoie.  wag  once  pr0p0se(j  to  Sir  Robert  Wal- 
pole, but  the  sagacious  old  statesman  dismissed  it 
with  a laugh.  “ What ! ” said  he.  “ I have  half  of 
Old  England  set  against  me  already,  and  do  you 
think  I will  have  all  New  England  likewise  ?” 
From  time  to  time  the  liberal  charters  of  Rhode 


THE  BEGINNINGS . 


5 


Island  and  Connecticut  were  threatened,  but  noth- 
ing came  of  this.  But  in  one  direction  the  Lords  of 
Trade  were  more  active.  One  of  their  most  cher- 
ished plans  was  to  bring  about  a union  of  all  the 
colonies  under  a single  head ; but  this  was  not  to  be 
a union  of  the  kind  which  the  Americans,  with  con- 
summate statesmanship,  afterward  wrought  out  for 
themselves.  It  was  not  to  be  a union  based  upon 
the  idea  of  the  sacredness  of  local  self-government, 
but  it  was  a union  to  be  achieved,  as  far  as  possible, 
at  the  expense  of  local  self-government.  To  bring 
all  the  colonies  together  under  a single  viceroy 
would,  it  was  thought,  diminish  seriously  the  power 
of  each  local  assembly,  while  at  the  same  time  such 
a union  would  no  doubt  make  the  military  strength 
of  the  colonies  much  more  available  in  case  of  war. 
In  1764,  Francis  Bernard,  governor  of  Massachu- 
setts, wrote  that  “ to  settle  the  American  govern- 
ments to  the  greatest  possible  advantage,  it  will  be 
necessary  to  reduce  the  number  of  them  ; in  some 
places  to  unite  and  consolidate ; in  others  to  sep- 
arate and  transfer  ; and  in  general  to  divide  by 
natural  boundaries  instead  of  imaginary  lines.  If 
there  should  be  but  one  form  of  government  estab- 
lished for  the  North  American  provinces,  it  would 
greatly  facilitate  the  reformation  of  them.”  As 
long  ago  as  1701,  Robert  Livingston  of  New  York 
had  made  similar  suggestions  ; and  in  1752,  Din- 
widdie  of  Virginia  recommended  that  the  Northern 
and  Southern  colonies  be  united  respectively  into 
two  great  confederacies. 

The  desirableness  of  bringing  about  a union  of 
the  colonies  was  also  recognized  by  all  the  most 


6 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


liberal-minded  American  statesmen,  though  from  a 
very  different  point  of  view.  They  agreed  with  the 
royal  governors  and  with  the  Lords  of  Trade  as  to 
the  urgent  need  for  concentrating  the  military 
strength  of  the  colonies,  and  they  thought  that  this 
end  could  best  be  subserved  by  some  kind  of  federal 
union.  But  at  the  same  time  they  held  that  the 
integrity  of  the  local  self-government  of  each  col- 
ony was  of  the  first  importance,  and  that  no  system 
of  federation  would  be  practicable  which  should  in 
any  degree  essentially  impair  that  integrity.  To 
bring  about  a federal  union  on  such  terms  was  no 
easy  matter ; it  was  a task  fitted  to  tax  the  great- 
est of  statesmen  at  any  time.  At  that  time  it  was 

undoubtedly  a hopeless  task.  The  need 

Weakness  **  ^ 

the  sentiment  for  union  was  not  generally  felt  by  the 

of  union.  - 0 . 

people.  The  sympathies  between  the 
different  colonies  were  weak  and  liable  to  be  over- 
borne by  prejudices  arising  from  rivalry  or  from 
differences  in  social  structure.  To  the  merchant 
of  Boston,  the  Virginian  planter  was  still  almost  a 
foreigner,  though  both  the  one  and  the  other  were 
pure-blooded  Englishmen.  Commercial  jealousies 
were  very  keen.  Disputes  about  boundaries  were 
not  uncommon.  In  1756,  Georgia  and  South  Car- 
olina actually  came  to  blows  over  the  navigation  of 
the  Savannah  river.  Jeremiah  Dummer,  in  his 
famous  “ Defence  of  the  New  Charters,”  said  that 
it  was  impossible  that  the  colonies  should  ever  be 
brought  to  unite  *,  and  Burnaby  thought  that  if  the 
hand  of  Great  Britain  were  once  taken  off,  there 
would  be  chronic  civil  war  all  the  way  from  Maine 
to  Georgia. 


THE  BEGINNINGS. 


7 


In  1754,  the  prospect  of  immediate  war  with  the 
French  led  several  of  the  royal  governors  to  call  for 
a congress  of  all  the  colonies,  to  be  held  at  Albany. 
The  primary  purpose  of  the  meeting  was  The  Albany 
to  make  sure  of  the  friendship  of  the  Congres8, 

Six  Nations,  and  to  organize  a general  scheme  of 
operations  against  the  French.  The  secondary 
purpose  was  to  prepare  some  plan  of  confederation 
which  all  the  colonies  might  be  persuaded  to  adopt. 
New  Hampshire,  Massachusetts,  Rhode  Island, 
Connecticut,  New  York,  Pennsylvania,  and  Mary- 
land — only  seven  colonies  of  the  thirteen  — sent 
commissioners  to  this  congress.  The  people  showed 
little  interest  in  the  movement.  It  does  not  ap- 
pear that  any  public  meetings  were  held  in  favour 
of  it.  Among  the  newspapers,  the  only  one  which 
warmly  approved  of  it  seems  to  have  been  the 
“ Pennsylvania  Gazette,”  edited  by  Benjamin 
Franklin,  which  appeared  with  a union  device 
and  the  motto  “ Unite  or  Die ! ” 

The  circumstances  of  Franklin’s  life,  no  less  than 
the  vast  sweep  of  his  intelligence,  had  fitted  him  for 
sounder  and  wider  views  of  the  political  needs  of 
the  time  than  were  taken  by  most  of  his  contempo- 
raries. In  a certain  sense  he  may  be  said  to  have 
belonged  to  two  very  different  colonies  ; nor  was  he 
unfamiliar  with  ideas  current  in  the  mother-coun- 
try. During  the  session  of  the  Albany  Congress, 
a first  attempt  was  made  to  establish  a permanent 
union  of  the  thirteen  colonies.  It  was  „ 

Franklin ’a 

to  Franklin  that  the  plan  was  chiefly  pi»“  of  union, 

due.  The  legislative  assembly  of  each 

colony  was  to  choose,  once  in  three  years,  rep- 


8 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


resentatives  to  attend  a federal  Grand  Council; 
which  was  to  meet  every  year  at  Philadelphia,  a 
town  which  could  he  reached  by  a twenty  days’ 
journey  either  from  South  Carolina  or  from  New 
Hampshire.  This  Grand  Council  was  to  choose 
its  own  speaker,  and  could  neither  be  dissolved  nor 
prorogued,  nor  kept  sitting  longer  than  six  weeks 
at  any  one  time,  except  by  its  own  consent  or  by 
especial  order  of  the  Crown.  The  Grand  Council 
was  to  make  treaties  with  the  Indians  and  to  reg- 
ulate the  Indian  trade;  and  it  was  to  have  sole 
power  of  legislation  on  all  matters  concerning  the 
colonies  as  a whole.  To  these  ends,  it  could  levy 
taxes,  enlist  soldiers,  build  forts,  and  nominate  all 
civil  officers.  Its  laws  were  to  be  submitted  to  the 
king  for  approval,  and  the  royal  veto,  in  order  to 
be  of  effect,  must  be  exercised  within  three  years. 

To  this  Grand  Council  each  colony  was  to  send 
a number  of  representatives,  proportioned  to  its 
contributions  to  the  continental  military  service ; 
yet  no  colony  was  to  send  less  than  two  or  more 
than  seven  representatives.  With  the  exception 
of  such  matters  of  general  concern  as  were  to  be 
managed  by  the  Grand  Council,  each  colony  was 
to  retain  its  powers  of  legislation  intact.  On  an 
emergency,  any  colony  might  singly  defend  itself 
against  foreign  attack,  and  the  federal  government 
was  prohibited  from  impressing  soldiers  or  seamen 
without  the  consent  of  the  local  legislature. 

The  supreme  executive  power  was  to  be  vested 
in  a president  or  governor-general,  appointed  and 
paid  by  the  Crown.  He  was  to  nominate  all  mili- 
tary officers,  subject  to  the  approval  of  the  Grand 


THE  BEGINNINGS. 


9 


Council,  and  was  to  have  a veto  on  all  the  acts  of 
the  Grand  Council.  No  money  could  he  issued 
save  by  joint  order  of  the  governor-general  and 
the  council. 

This  plan,  said  Franklin,  44  is  not  altogether  to 
my  mind,  but  it  is  as  I could  get  it.”  It  should 
be  observed,  to  the  credit  of  its  great  author,  that 
this  scheme,  long  afterward  known  as  the  44  Albany 
Plan,”  contemplated  the  formation  of  a self-sus- 
taining federal  government,  and  not  of  a mere 
league.  As  Frothingham  well  says,  “ It  designed 
to  confer  on  the  representatives  of  the  people  the 
power  of  making  laws  acting  directly  on  individu- 
als, and  appointing  officers  to  execute  them,  and 
yet  not  to  interfere  with  the  execution  of  the  laws 
operating  on  the  same  individuals  by  the  local  of- 
ficers.” It  would  have  erected  44  a public  authority 
as  obligatory  in  its  sphere  as  the  local  governments 
were  in  their  spheres.”  In  this  respect  it  was 
much  more  complete  than  the  scheme  of  confeder- 
ation agreed  on  in  Congress  in  1777,  and  it  af- 
forded a valuable  precedent  for  the  much  more 
elaborate  and  perfect  Federal  Constitution  of  1787. 
It  was  in  its  main  features  a noble  scheme,  and 
the  great  statesman  who  devised  it  was  already 
looking  forward  to  the  immense  growth  of  the 
American  Union,  though  he  had  not  yet  foreseen 
the  separation  of  the  colonies  from  the  mother- 
country.  In  less  than  a century,  he  said,  the 
great  country  behind  the  Alleghanies  must  become 
44  a populous  and  powerful  dominion ; ” and  he 
recommended  that  two  new  colonies  should  at  once 
be  founded  in  the  West,  - - the  one  on  Lake  Erie^ 


10 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


the  other  in  the  valley  of  the  Ohio,  — with  free 
chartered  governments  like  those  of  Rhode  Island 
and  Connecticut. 

But  public  opinion  was  not  yet  ripe  for  the 
adoption  of  Franklin’s  bold  and  comprehensive 
ideas.  Of  the  royal  governors  who  were  anxious 
to  see  the  colonies  united  on  any  terms,  none  op- 
posed the  plan  except  Delancey  of  New  York, 
who  wished  to  reserve  to  the  governors  a veto 
upon  all  elections  of  representatives  to  the  Grand 
Rejection  of  Council.  To  this  it  was  rightly  objected 
the  plan.  that  such  a veto  power  would  virtually 
destroy  the  freedom  of  elections,  and  make  the 
Grand  Council  an  assembly  of  creatures  of  the 
governors.  On  the  popular  side  the  objections 
were  many.  The  New  England  delegates,  on 
the  whole,  were  the  least  disinclined  to  union ; 
yet  Connecticut  urged  that  the  veto  power  of 
the  governor-general  might  prove  ruinous  to  the 
whole  scheme  ; that  the  concentration  of  all  the 
military  forces  in  his  hands  would  be  fraught 
with  dangers  to  liberty;  and  that  even  the  power 
of  taxation,  lodged  in  the  hands  of  an  assembly 
so  remote  from  local  interests,  was  hardly  compat- 
ible with  the  preservation  of  the  ancient  rights 
of  Englishmen.  After  long  debate,  the  assembly 
at  Albany  decided  to  adopt  Franklin’s  plan,  and 
copies  of  it  were  sent  to  all  the  colonies  for  their 
consideration.  But  nowhere  did  it  meet  with  ap- 
proval. The  mere  fact  that  the  royal  governors 
were  all  in  favour  of  it  — though  their  advocacy  was 
at  present,  no  doubt,  determined  mainly  by  military 
reasons  — was  quite  enough  to  create  an  insuper- 


THE  BEGINNINGS. 


11 


able  prejudice  against  it  on  the  part  of  the  people. 
The  Massachusetts  legislature  seems  to  have  been 
the  only  one  which  gave  it  a respectful  considera* 
tion,  albeit  a large  town  meeting  in  Boston  de- 
nounced it  as  subversive  of  liberty.  Pennsylvania 
rejected  it  without  a word  of  discussion.  None 
of  the  assemblies  favoured  it.  On  the  other  hand, 
when  sent  over  to  England  to  be  inspected  by  the 
Lords  of  Trade,  it  only  irritated  and  disgusted 
them.  As  they  truly  said,  it  was  a scheme  of 
union  “ complete  in  itself ; ” and  ever  since  the 
days  of  the  New  England  confederacy  the  Crown 
had  looked  with  extreme  jealousy  upon  all  at- 
tempts at  concerted  action  among  the  colonies 
which  did  not  originate  with  itself.  Besides  this, 
the  Lords  of  Trade  were  now  considering  a plan 
of  their  own  for  remodelling  the  governments  of 
the  colonies,  establishing  a standing  army,  enfor- 
cing the  navigation  acts,  and  levying  taxes  by  au- 
thority of  Parliament.  Accordingly  little  heed 
was  paid  to  Franklin’s  ideas.  Though  the  royal 
governors  had  approved  the  Albany  plan,  in  de- 
fault of  any  scheme  of  union  more  to  their  minds, 
they  had  no  real  sympathy  with  it.  In  1756,  Shir- 
ley wrote  to  the  Lords  of  Trade,  urging 

J Shirley  recom. 

upon  them  the  paramount  necessity  tor  mends  a stamp 
a union  of  the  American  colonies,  in 
order  tc,  withstand  the  French;  while  at  the  same 
time  he  disparaged  Franklin’s  scheme,  as  contain- 
ing principles  of  government  unfit  even  for  a sin- 
gle colony  like  Rhode  Island,  and  much  more  unfit 
for  a great  American  confederacy.  The  union,  he 
urged,  should  be  effected  by  act  of  Parliament,  and 


12 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


by  the  same  authority  a general  fund  should  he 
raised  to  meet  the  expenses  of  the  war,  — an  end 
which  Shirley  thought  might  be  most  speedily  and 
quietly  attained  by  means  of  a “ stamp  duty.”  As 
Shirley  had  been  for  fifteen  years  governor  of  Mas- 
sachusetts, and  was  now  commander-in-chief  of  all 
the  troops  in  America,  his  opinion  had  great  weight 
with  the  Lords  of  Trade  ; and  the  same  views  be- 
ing reiterated  by  Dinwiddie  of  Virginia,  Sharpe 
of  Maryland,  Hardy  of  New  York,  and  other  gov- 
ernors, the  notion  that  Parliament  must  tax  the 
Americans  became  deeply  rooted  in  the  British 
official  mind. 

Nothing  was  done,  however,  until  the  work  of 
the  French  war  had  been  accomplished.  In  1761, 
it  was  decided  to  enforce  the  Navigation  Act,  and 
one  of  the  revenue  officers  at  Boston  applied  to 
the  superior  court  for  a “writ  of  assistance,”  or 
Writs  of  assist-  general  search-warrant,  to  enable  him 
ance-  to  enter  private  houses  and  search  for 

smuggled  goods,  but  without  specifying  either 
houses  or  goods.  Such  general  warrants  had  been 
allowed  by  a statute  of  the  bad  reign  of  Charles 
II. , and  a statute  of  William  III.,  in  general 
terms,  had  granted  to  revenue  officers  in  America 
like  powers  to  those  they  possessed  in  England,, 
But  James  Otis  showed  that  the  issue  of  such 
writs  was  contrary  to  the  whole  spirit  of  the  Brit- 
ish constitution.  To  issue  such  universal  warrants 
allowing  the  menials  of  the  custom-house,  on  mere 
suspicion,  and  perhaps  from  motives  of  personal 
enmity,  to  invade  the  home  of  any  citizen,  without 
being  held  responsible  for  any  rudeness  they 


THE  BEGINNINGS. 


H 


might  commit  there,  — such,  he  said,  was  “ a kind 
of  power,  the  exercise  of  which  cost  one  king  of 
England  his  head  and  another  his  throne  ; ” and 
he  plainly  declared  that  even  an  act  of  Parliament 
which  should  sanction  so  gross  an  infringement  of 
the  immemorial  rights  of  Englishmen  would  be 
treated  as  null  and  void.  Chief  Justice  Hutchin- 
son granted  the  writs  of  assistance,  and  as  an  in- 
terpreter of  the  law  he  was  doubtless  right  in  sa 
doing ; but  Otis’s  argument  suggested  the  question 
whether  Americans  were  bound  to  obey  laws  which 
they  had  no  share  in  making,  and  his  passionate 
eloquence  made  so  great  an  impression  upon  the 
people  that  this  scene  in  the  court-room  has  been 
since  remembered  — and  not  unjustly  — as  the 
opening  scene  of  the  American  Revolution. 

In  the  same  year  the  arbitrary  temper  of  the 
government  was  exhibited  in  New  York.  Down 
to  this  time  the  chief  justice  of  the  eol- 

" # The  chief  jus- 

ony  had  held  office  only  during  good  tfce  of  New 
behaviour,  and  had  been  liable  to  dis- 
missal at  the  hands  of  the  colonial  assembly.  The 
chief  justice  was  now  made  removable  only  by  the 
Crown,  a measure  which  struck  directly  at  the  in- 
dependent administration  of  justice  in  the  colony. 
The  assembly  tried  to  protect  itself  by  refusing  to 
assign  a fixed  salary  to  the  chief  justice,  where- 
upon the  king  ordered  that  the  salary  should  be 
paid  out  of  the  quit-rents  for  the  public  lands.  At 
the  same  time  instructions  were  sent  to  all  the 
royal  governors  to  grant  no  judicial  commissions 
for  any  other  period  than  “ during  the  king’s 
pleasure ; ” and  to  show  that  this  was  meant  in 


14 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


earnest,  the  governor  of  New  Jersey  was  next  year 
peremptorily  dismissed  for  commissioning  a judge 
44  during  good  behaviour.” 

In  1762,  a question  distinctly  involving  the  right 
of  the  people  to  control  the  expenditure  of  their 
own  money  came  up  in  Massachusetts.  Governor 
Bernard,  without  authority  from  the  assembly,  had 
sent  a couple  of  ships  to  the  northward,  to  protect 
the  fisheries  against  French  privateers,  and  an  ex- 
pense of  some  <£400  had  been  thus  incurred.  The 
assembly  was  now  ordered  to  pay  this  sum,  but  it 
otis’s  “vindi-  refused  to  do  so.  44  It  would  be  of  little 
cation.”  consequence  to  the  people,”  said  Otis, 
in  the  debate  on  the  question,  44  whether  they  were 
subject  to  George  or  Louis,  the  king  of  Great 
Britain  or  the  French  king,  if  both  were  arbitrary, 
as  both  would  be,  if  both  could  levy  taxes  without 
Parliament.”  A cry  of  44 Treason!”  from  one  of 
the  less  clear-headed  members  greeted  this  bold 
statement ; and  Otis,  being  afterward  taken  to  task 
for  his  language,  published  a 44  Vindication,”  in 
which  he  maintained  that  the  rights  of  a colonial 
assembly,  as  regarded  the  expenditure  of  public 
money,  were  as  sacred  as  the  rights  of  the  House 
of  Commons. 

In  April,  1763,  just  three  years  after  the  ac- 
cession of  George  III.,  George  Grenville  became 
Prime  Minister  of  England,  while  at  the  same  time 
Charles  Townshend  was  First  Lord  of  Trade. 
Townshend  had  paid  considerable  attention  to 
American  affairs,  and  was  supposed  to  know  more 
about  them  than  any  other  man  in  England.  But 
his  studies  had  led  him  to  the  conclusion  that  the 


THE  BEGINNINGS . 


15 


colonies  ought  to  be  deprived  of  their  self-govern* 
ment,  and  that  a standing  army  ought  to  be  main- 
tained in  America  by  means  of  taxes  arbitrarily 
assessed  upon  the  people  by  Parliament.  Gren- 
ville was  far  from  approving  of  such  extreme  meas- 
ures as  these,  but  he  thought  that  a tax  ought  to  be 
imposed  upon  the  colonies,  in  order  to 
help  defray  the  expenses  of  the  French  the  French 
war.  Yet  in  point  of  fact,  as  Franklin 
truly  said,  the  colonies  had  “raised,  paid,  and 
clothed  nearly  twenty-five  thousand  men  during 
the  last  war,  — a number  equal  to  those  sent  from 
Great  Britain,  and  far  beyond  their  proportion. 
They  went  deeply  into  debt  in  doing  this  ; and  all 
their  estates  and  taxes  are  mortgaged  for  many 
years  to  come  for  discharging  that  debt.”  That 
the  colonies  had  contributed  more  than  an  equi- 
table share  toward  the  expenses  of  the  war,  that 
their  contributions  had  even  been  in  excess  of 
their  ability,  had  been  freely  acknowledged  by  Par- 
liament, which,  on  several  occasions  between  1756 
and  1763,  had  voted  large  sums  to  be  paid  over  to 
the  colonies,  in  partial  compensation  for  their  ex- 
cessive outlay.  Parliament  was  therefore  clearly 
estopped  from  making  the  defrayal  of  the  war 
debt  the  occasion  for  imposing  upon  the  colonies  a 
tax  of  a new  and  strange  character,  and  under  cir- 
cumstances which  made  the  payment  of  such  a tax 
seem  equivalent  to  a surrender  of  their  rights  as 
free  English  communities.  In  March,  Grenviiie’s 
1764,  Grenville  introduced  in  the  House  ReBOlves* 
of  Commons  a series  of  Declaratory  Resolves,  an- 
nouncing the  intention  of  the  government  to  raise 


26 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


a revenue  in  America  by  requiring  all  legal  docu< 
ments  to  bear  stamps,  varying  in  price  from  three- 
pence to  ten  pounds.  A year  was  to  elapse,  how- 
ever, before  these  resolutions  should  take  effect  in 
a formal  enactment. 

It  marks  the  inferiority  of  the  mother-country  to 
the  colonies  in  political  development,  at  that  time, 
that  the  only  solicitude  as  yet  entertained  by  the 
British  official  mind,  with  regard  to  this  measure, 
seems  to  have  been  concerned  with  the  question 
how  far  the  Americans  would  be  willing  to  part 
with  their  money.  With  the  Americans  it  was  as 
far  as  possible  from  being  a question  of  pounds, 
shillings,  and  pence ; but  this  was  by  no  means  cor- 
rectly understood  in  England.  The  good  Shirley, 
although  he  had  lived  so  long  in  Massachusetts, 
had  thought  that  a revenue  might  be  most  easily 
and  quietly  raised  by  means  of  a stamp  duty.  Of 
all  kinds  of  direct  tax,  none,  perhaps,  is  less  an- 
noying. But  the  position  taken  by  the  Americans 
had  little  to  do  with  mere  convenience ; it  rested 
from  the  outset  upon  the  deepest  foundations  of 
political  justice,  and  from  this  foothold  neither 
threatening  nor  coaxing  could  stir  it. 

The  first  deliberate  action  with  reference  to  the 
proposed  Stamp  Act  was  taken  in  the  Boston  town 
meeting  in  May,  1764.  In  this  memorable  town 
meeting  Samuel  Adams  drew  up  a series  of  resolu- 
tions, which  contained  the  first  formal  and  public 
denial  of  the  right  of  Parliament  to  tax  the  colo- 
nies without  their  consent ; and  while  these  resolu- 
tions were  adopted  by  the  Massachusetts  assembly, 
a circular  letter  was  at  the  same  time  sent  to  all 


THE  BEGINNINGS.  IT 

the  other  colonies,  setting  forth  the  need  for  con- 
certed and  harmonious  action  in  respect  Reply  of  th0 
of  so  grave  a matter.  In  response,  the  colomes- 
assemblies  of  Connecticut,  New  York,  Pennsylva- 
nia, Virginia,  and  South  Carolina  joined  with 
Massachusetts  in  remonstrating  against  the  pro- 
posed Stamp  Act.  All  these  memorials  were  re- 
markable for  clearness  of  argument  and  simple 
dignity  of  language.  They  all  took  their  stand  on 
the  principle  that,  as  free-born  Englishmen,  they 
could  not  rightfully  be  taxed  by  the  House  of  Com- 
mons unless  they  were  represented  in  that  body. 
But  the  proviso  was  added,  that  if  a letter  from 
the  secretary  of  state,  coming  in  the  king’s  name, 
should  be  presented  to  the  colonial  assemblies,  ask- 
ing them  to  contribute  something  from  their  gen- 
eral resources  to  the  needs  of  the  British  Empire, 
they  would  cheerfully,  as  heretofore,  grant  liberal 
sums  of  money,  in  token  of  their  loyalty  and  of 
their  interest  in  all  that  concerned  the  welfare  of 
the  mighty  empire  to  which  they  belonged.  These 
able  and  temperate  memorials  were  sent  to  Eng- 
land ; and  in  order  to  reinforce  them  by  personal 
tact  and  address,  Franklin  went  over  to  London  as 
agent  for  the  colony  of  Pennsylvania. 

The  remonstrances  of  the  colonies  were  of  no 
avail.  Early  in  1765  the  Stamp  Act  The  stamp  " 
was  passed.  It  is  worthy  of  remark  that,  Act- 
now  that  the  obnoxious  law  was  fairly  enacted,  the 
idea  that  the  Americans  would  resist  its  execution 
did  not  at  once  occur  to  Franklin.  Acquiescence 
seemed  to  him,  for  the  present,  the  only  safe  pol- 
icy. In  writing  to  his  friend  Charles  Thomson, 


18 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


he  said  that  he  could  no  more  have  hindered  the 
passing  of  the  Stamp  Act  than  he  could  have 
hindered  the  sun’s  setting.  “ That,”  he  says, 
“ we  could  not  do.  But  since  it  is  down,  my 
friend,  and  it  may  be  long  before  it  rises  again, 
let  us  make  as  good  a night  of  it  as  we  can.  We 
may  still  light  candles.  Frugality  and  industry 
will  go  a great  way  towards  indemnifying  us.” 
But  Thomson,  in  his  answer,  with  truer  foresight, 
observed,  “I  much  fear,  instead  of  the  candles 
you  mentioned  being  lighted,  you  will  hear  of  the 
works  of  darkness ! ” The  news  of  the  passage 
of  the  Stamp  Act  was  greeted  in  America  with  a 
burst  of  indignation.  In  New  York,  the  act  was 
reprinted  with  a death’s-head  upon  it  in  place  of 
the  royal  arms,  and  it  was  hawked  about  the 
streets  under  the  title  of  “ The  Folly  of  England 
and  the  Buin  of  America.”  In  Boston,  the  church- 
bells  were  tolled,  and  the  flags  on  the  shipping  put 
at  half-mast. 

But  formal  defiance  came  first  from  Virginia. 

The  Parsons’  ^ year  anc^  a before,  a famous  law- 
Cause.  suit,  known  as  the  “ Parsons’  Cause,” 

bad  brought  into  public  notice  a young  man  who 
was  destined  to  take  rank  as  one  of  the  greatest 
of  modern  orators.  The  lawsuit  which  made  Pat- 
rick Henry’s  reputation  was  one  of  the  straws 
which  showed  how  the  stream  of  tendency  in 
America  was  then  strongly  setting  toward  inde- 
pendence. Tobacco  had  not  yet  ceased  to  be  a 
legal  currency  in  Virginia,  and  by  virtue  of  an 
old  statute  each  clergyman  of  the  Established 
Church  was  entitled  to  sixteen  thousand  pounds 


THE  BEGINNINGS. 


19 


of  tobacco  as  bis  yearly  salary.  In  1755  and 
1758,  under  the  severe  pressure  of  the  French 
war,  the  assembly  had  passed  relief  acts,  allowing 
all  public  dues,  including  the  salaries  of  the  clergy, 
to  be  paid  either  in  kind  or  in  money,  at  a fixed 
rate  of  twopence  for  a pound  of  tobacco.  The 
policy  of  these  acts  was  thoroughly  unsound,  as 
they  involved  a partial  repudiation  of  debts ; but 
the  extreme  distress  of  the  community  was  pleaded 
in  excuse,  and  every  one,  clergy  as  well  as  laymen, 
at  first  acquiesced  in  them.  But  in  1759,  tobacco 
was  worth  sixpence  per  pound,  and  the  clergy 
became  dissatisfied.  Their  complaints  reached  the 
ears  of  Sherlock,  the  Bishop  of  London,  and  the 
act  of  1758  was  summarily  vetoed  by  the  king  in 
council.  The  clergy  brought  suits  to  recover  the 
unpaid  portions  of  their  salaries ; in  the  test  case 
of  Rev.  James  Maury,  the  court  decided  the  point 
of  the  law  in  their  favour,  on  the  ground  of  the 
royal  veto,  and  nothing  remained  but  to  settle  be- 
fore a jury  the  amount  of  the  damages.  On  this 
occasion,  Henry  appeared  for  the  first  time  in 
court,  and  after  a few  timid  and  awkward  sen- 
tences burst  forth  with  an  eloquent  speech,  in 
which  he  asserted  the  indefeasible  right  of  Vir- 
ginia to  make  laws  for  herself,  and  declared  that 
in  annulling  a salutary  ordinance  at  the  request 
of  a favoured  class  in  the  community  “a  king, 
from  being  the  father  of  his  people,  degenerates 
into  a tyrant,  and  forfeits  all  right  to  obedience.’  ’ 
Cries  of  “ Treason ! ” were  heard  in  the  court- 
room, but  the  jury  immediately  returned  a verdict 
of  one  penny  in  damages,  and  Henry  became  the 


20 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION . 


popular  idol  of  Virginia.  The  clergy  tried  in  vain 
to  have  him  indicted  for  treason,  alleging  that  his 
crime  was  hardly  less  heinous  than  that  which  had 
brought  old  Lord  Lovat  to  the  block.  But  the 
people  of  Louisa  county  replied,  in  1765,  by 
choosing  him  to  represent  them  in  the  colonial  as- 
sembly. 

Hardly  had  Henry  taken  his  seat  in  the  as- 
sembly when  the  news  of  the  Stamp  Act 
ry’s  resolu-  arrived.  In  a committee  of  the  whole 
house,  he  drew  up  a series  of  resolu- 
tions, declaring  that  the  colonists  were  entitled  to 
all  the  liberties  and  privileges  of  natural-born  sub- 
jects, and  that  “the  taxation  of  the  people  by 
themselves,  or  by  persons  chosen  by  themselves  to 
represent  them,  ...  is  the  distinguishing  charac- 
teristic of  British  freedom,  without  which  the 
ancient  constitution  cannot  exist.”  It  was  further 
declared  that  any  attempt  to  vest  the  power  of 
taxation  in  any  other  body  than  the  colonial  as- 
sembly was  a menace  to  British  no  less  than  to 
American  freedom ; that  the  people  of  Virginia 
were  not  bound  to  obey  any  law  enacted  in  dis- 
regard of  these  fundamental  principles ; and  that 
any  one  who  should  maintain  the  contrary  should 
be  regarded  as  a public  enemy.  It  was  in  the 
lively  debate  which  ensued  upon  these  resolu- 
tions, that  Henry  uttered  those  memorable  words 
commending  the  example  of  Tarquin  and  Caesar 
and  Charles  I.  to  the  attention  of  George  III. 
Before  the  vote  had  been  taken  upon  all  the 
resolutions,  Governor  Fauquier  dissolved  the  as- 
sembly; but  the  resolutions  were  printed  in  the 


THE  BEGINNINGS . 21 

newspapers,  and  hailed  with  approval  all  over  the 
country. 

Meanwhile,  the  Massachusetts  legislature,  at 
the  suggestion  of  Otis,  had  issued  a circular  lettei 
to  all  the  colonies,  calling  for  a general  congress, 
in  order  to  concert  measures  of  resist-  The  gtamp 
ance  to  the  Stamp  Act.  The  first  cor-  Egress, 
dial  response  came  from  South  Carolina,  at  the 
instance  of  Christopher  Gadsden,  a wealthy  mer. 
chant  of  Charleston  and  a scholar  learned  in 
Oriental  languages,  a man  of  rare  sagacity  and 
most  liberal  spirit.  On  the  7th  of  October,  the 
proposed  congress  assembled  at  New  York,  com- 
prising delegates  from  Massachusetts,  South  Caro- 
lina, Pennsylvania,  Rhode  Island,  Connecticut. 
Delaware,  Maryland,  New  Jersey,  and  New  York, 
in  all  nine  colonies,  which  are  here  mentioned  in 
the  order  of  the  dates  at  which  they  chose  their 
delegates.  In  Virginia,  the  governor  succeeded 
in  preventing  the  meeting  of  the  legislature,  so 
that  this  great  colony  did  not  send  delegates ; and 
for  various  reasons,  New  Hampshire,  North  Caro- 
lina, and  Georgia  were  likewise  unrepresented  at 
the  congress.  But  the  sentiment  of  all  the  thirteen 
colonies  was  none  the  less  unanimous,  and  those 
which  did  not  attend  lost  no  time  in  declaring 
their  full  concurrence  with  what  was  done  at  New 
York.  At  this  memorable  meeting,  held  under 
the  very  guns  of  the  British  fleet  and  hard  by  the 
headquarters  of  General  Gage,  the  commander- 
in-chief  of  the  regular  forces  in  America,  a series 
of  resolutions  were  adopted,  echoing  the  spirit  of 
Patrick  Henry’s  resolves,  though  couched  in  Ian- 


22 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


guage  somewhat  more  conciliatory,  and  memorials 
were  addressed  to  the  king  and  to  both  Houses  of 
Parliament.  Of  all  the  delegates  present,  Gadsden 
took  the  broadest  ground,  in  behalf  both  of  liberty 
and  of  united  action  among  the  colonies.  He  ob- 
jected to  sending  petitions  to  Parliament,  lest 
thereby  its  paramount  authority  should  implicitly 
and  unwittingly  be  acknowledged.  “ A confirma- 
tion of  our  essential  and  common  rights  as  Eng- 
lishmen,” said  he,  “ may  be  pleaded  from  charters 
safely  enough;  but  any  further  dependence  on  them 
may  be  fatal.  We  should  stand  upon  the  broad 
common  ground  of  those  natural  rights  that  we 
all  feel  and  know  as  men  and  as  descendants  of 
Englishmen.  I wish  the  charters  may  not  ensnare 
us  at  last,  by  drawing  different  colonies  to  act 
differently  in  this  great  cause.  Whenever  that  is 
the  case,  all  will  be  over  with  the  whole.  There 
ought  to  be  no  New  England  man,  no  New  Yorker, 
known  on  the  continent ; but  all  of  us  Americans.” 
So  thought  and  said  this  broad-minded  South 
Carolinian. 

While  these  things  were  going  on  at  New  York, 
Declaration  of  ^ie  Massachusetts  assembly,  under  the 
Betta^asaem-lu"  lea(l  of  Samuel  Adams,  who  had  just 
bly*  taken  his  seat  in  it,  drew  up  a very  able 

state  paper,  in  which  it  was  declared,  among  othei 
things,  that  “ the  Stamp  Act  wholly  cancels  the 
very  conditions  upon  which  our  ancestors,  with 
much  toil  and  blood  and  at  their  sole  expense,  set- 
tled this  country  and  enlarged  his  majesty’s  domin- 
ions. It  tends  to  destroy  that  mutual  confidence 
and  affection,  as  well  as  that  equality,  which  ought 


THE  BEGINNINGS. 


23 


ever  to  subsist  among  ail  his  majesty’s  subjects  in 
this  wide  and  extended  empire ; and  what  is  the 
worst  of  all  evils,  if  his  majesty’s  American  subjects 
are  not  to  be  governed  according  to  the  known  and 
stated  rules  of  the  constitution,  their  minds  may 
in  time  become  disaffected.”  This  moderate  and 
dignified  statement  was  derided  in  England  as  the 
“ raving  of  a parcel  of  wild  enthusiasts,”  but  from 
the  position  here  taken  Massachusetts  never  after- 
ward receded. 

But  it  wa,s  not  only  in  these  formal  and  decorous 
proceedings  that  the  spirit  of  resistance  was  exhib- 
ited. The  first  announcement  of  the  Resistance  to 
Stamp  Act  had  called  into  existence  a Actinia- 
group  of  secret  societies  of  workingmen  t0“5 
known  as  “ Sons  of  Liberty,”  in  allusion  to  a fa- 
mous phrase  in  one  of  Colonel  Barre’s  speeches. 
These  societies  were  solemnly  pledged  to  resist  the 
execution  of  the  obnoxious  law.  On  the  14th  of 
August,  the  quiet  town  of  Boston  witnessed  some 
extraordinary  proceedings.  At  daybreak,  the  ef- 
figy of  the  stamp  officer,  Oliver,  was  seen  hanging 
from  a great  elm-tree,  while  near  it  was  suspended 
a boot,  to  represent  the  late  prime  minister,  Lord 
Bute ; and  from  the  top  of  the  boot-leg  there  is- 
sued a grotesque  head,  garnished  with  horns,  to 
represent  the  derT.  At  nightfall  the  Sons  of  Lib- 
erty cut  down  these  figures,  and  bore  them  on  a 
bier  through  the  streets  until  they  reached  King 
Street,  where  they  demolished  the  frame  of  a house 
which  was  supposed  to  be  erecting  for  a stamp  of- 
fice. Thence,  carrying  the  beams  of  this  frame  to 
Fort  Hill,  where  Oliver  lived,  they  made  a bonfire 


24 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


of  them  in  front  of  his  house,  and  in  the  bonfire 
they  burned  up  the  effigies.  Twelve  days  after,  a 
mob  sacked  the  splendid  house  of  Chief  Justice 
Hutchinson,  threw  his  plate  into  the  street,  and 
destroyed  the  valuable  library  which  he  had  been 
thirty  years  in  collecting,  and  which  contained 
many  manuscripts,  the  loss  of  which  was  quite  ir- 
reparable. As  usual  with  mobs,  the  vengeance  fell 
in  the  wrong  place,  for  Hutchinson  had  done  his 
best  to  prevent  the  passage  of  the  Stamp  Act.  In 
most  of  the  colonies,  the  stamp  officers  were  com- 
pelled to  resign  their  posts.  Boxes  of  stamps  ar- 
riving by  ship  were  burned  or  thrown  into  the  sea. 
Leading  merchants  agreed  to  import  no  more  goods 
from  England,  and  wealthy  citizens  set  the  example 
of  dressing  in  homespun  garments.  Lawyers  agreed 
to  overlook  the  absence  of  the  stamp  on  legal  doc- 
uments, while  editors  derisively  issued  their  news- 
papers with  a death’s-head  in  the  place  where  the 
stamp  was  required  to  be  put.  In  New  York,  the 
and  in  New  presence  of  the  troops  for  a moment  en- 
York.  couraged  the  lieutenant-governor,  Coi- 

den,  to  take  a bold  stand  in  behalf  of  the  law.  He 
talked  of  firing  upon  the  people,  but  was  warned 
that  if  he  did  so  he  would  be  speedily  hanged  on 
a lamp-post,  like  Captain  Porteous  of  Edinburgh,, 
A torchlight  procession,  carrying  images  of  Colden 
and  of  the  devil,  broke  into  the  governor’s  coach- 
house, and,  seizing  his  best  chariot,  paraded  it 
about  town  with  the  images  upon  it,  and  finally 
burned  up  chariot  and  images  on  the  Bowling 
Green,  in  full  sight  of  Colden  and  the  garrison, 
who  look'*'1  on  from  the  Battery,  speechless  with 


THE  BEGINNINGS. 


25 


rage,  but  afraid  to  interfere.  Gage  did  not  dare 
to  have  the  troops  used,  for  fear  of  bringing  on  a 
civil  war ; and  the  next  day  the  discomfited  Colden 
was  obliged  to  surrender  all  the  stamps  to  the  com- 
mon council  of  New  York,  by  whom  they  were  at 
once  locked  up  in  the  City  Hall. 

Nothing  more  was  needed  to  prove  the  impossi- 
bility of  carrying  the  Stamp  Act  into  effect.  An 
act  which  could  be  thus  rudely  defied  under  the  very 
eyes  of  the  commander-in-chief  plainly  could  never 
be  enforced  without  a war.  But  nobody  wanted  a 
war,  and  the  matter  began  to  be  reconsidered  in 
England.  In  July,  the  Grenville  ministry  had 
gone  out  of  office,  and  the  Marquis  of  Rockingham 
was  now  prime  minister,  while  Conway,  who  had 
been  one  of  the  most  energetic  opponents  of  the 
Stamp  Act,  was  secretary  of  state  for  the  colonies. 
The  new  ministry  would  perhaps  have  been  glad  to 
let  the  question  of  taxing  America  remain  in  abey- 
ance, but  that  was  no  longer  possible.  The  debate 
on  the  proposed  repeal  of  the  Stamp 

A 1 r L Debate  in  the 

Act  was  one  or  the  fiercest  that  has  ever  House  of  com- 
been  heard  in  the  House  of  Commons. 

Grenville  and  his  friends,  now  in  opposition,  main- 
tained in  all  sincerity  that  no  demand  could  ever 
be  more  just,  or  more  honourably  intended,  than 
that  which  had  lately  been  made  upon  the  Ameri- 
cans. Of  the  honest  conviction  of  Grenville  and 
his  supporters  that  they  were  entirely  in  the  right, 
and  that  the  Americans  were  governed  by  purely 
sordid  and  vulgar  motives  in  resisting  the  Stamp 
Act,  there  cannot  be  the  slightest  doubt.  To  re- 
fute this  gross  misconception  of  the  American  po- 


26 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


sition,  Pitt  hastened  from  a sick-bed  to  the  House 
of  Commons,  and  delivered  those  speeches,  in 
which  he  avowed  that  he  rejoiced  in  the  resistance 
of  the  Americans,  and  declared  that,  had  they 
submitted  tamely  to  the  measures  of  Grenville, 
they  would  have  shown  themselves  only  fit  to  be 
slaves.  He  pointed  out  distinctly  that  the  Ameri- 
cans were  upholding  those  eternal  principles  of 
political  justice  which  should  be  to  all  Englishmen 
most  dear,  and  that  a victory  over  the  colonies 
would  be  of  ill-omen  for  English  liberty,  whether 
in  the  Old  World  or  in  the  New.  Beware,  he 
said,  how  you  persist  in  this  ill-considered  policy. 
“ In  such  a cause  your  success  would  be  hazard- 
ous. America,  if  she  fell,  would  fall  like  the 
strong  man  with  his  arms  around  the  pillars  of  the 
Constitution.”  There  could  be  no  sounder  politi- 
cal philosophy  than  was  contained  in  these  burn- 
ing sentences  of  Pitt.  From  all  the  history  of  the 
European  world  since  the  later  days  of  the  Homan 
Republic,  there  is  no  more  important  lesson  to  be 
learned  than  this,  — that  it  is  impossible  for  a free 
people  to  govern  a dependent  people  despotically 
without  endangering  its  own  freedom.  Pitt  there- 
fore urged  that  the  Stamp  Act  should  instantly 
be  repealed,  and  that  the  reason  for  the  repeal 
should  be  explicitly  stated  to  be  because  the  act 
“ was  founded  on  an  erroneous  principle.”  At  the 
same  time  he  recommended  the  passage  of  a De- 
claratory Act,  in  which  the  sovereign  authority  of 
Parliament  over  the  colonies  should  be  strongly 
asserted  with  respect  to  everything  except  direct 
taxation.  Similar  views  were  set  forth  in  the 


THE  BEGINNINGS. 


27 


House  of  Lords,  with  great  learning  and  ability, 
by  Lord  Camden ; but  he  was  vehemently  opposed 
by  Lord  Mansfield,  and  when  the  question  came 
to  a decision  the  only  peers  who  supported  Cam- 
den were  Lords  Shelburne,  Cornwallis,  Paulet,  and 
Torrington.  The  result  finally  reached  was  the 
unconditional  repeal  of  the  Stamp  Act,  Repeal  of  the 
and  the  simultaneous  passage  of  a De-  stamp  Act* 
claratory  Act,  in  which  the  views  of  Pitt  and  Cam- 
den were  ignored,  and  Parliament  asserted  its 
right  to  make  laws  binding  on  the  colonies  “ in  all 
cases  whatsoever.”  By  the  people  of  London  the 
repeal  was  received  with  enthusiastic  delight,  and 
Pitt  and  Conway,  as  they  appeared  on  the  street, 
were  loudly  cheered,  while  Grenville  was  greeted 
with  a storm  of  hisses.  In  America  the  effect  of 
the  news  was  electric.  There  were  bonfires  in 
every  town,  while  addresses  of  thanks  to  the  king 
were  voted  in  all  the  legislatures.  Little  heed  was 
paid  to  the  Declaratory  Act,  which  was  regarded 
merely  as  an  artifice  for  saving  the  pride  of  the 
British  government.  There  was  a unanimous  out- 
burst of  loyalty  all  over  the  country,  and  never 
did  the  people  seem  less  in  a mood  for  rebellion 
than  now. 

The  quarrel  had  now  been  made  up.  On  the 
question  of  principle,  the  British  had  the  last 
word.  The  government  had  got  out  of  its  di- 
lemma remarkably  well,  and  the  plain  and  obvious 
course  for  British  statesmanship  was  not  to  allow 
another  such  direct  issue  to  come  up  between  the 
colonies  and  the  mother-country.  To  force  on 
another  such  issue  while  the  memory  of  this  one 


28 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


was  fresh  in  everybody’s  mind  was  sheer  madness. 

/ To  raise  the  question  wantonly,  as  Charles  Towns- 
hend  did  in  the  course  of  the  very  next  year, 
was  one  of  those  blunders  that  are  worse  than 
crimes. 

In  July,  1766,  — less  than  six  months  after  the 
repeal  of  the  Stamp  Act,  — the  Rockingham  min- 
istry fell,  and  the  formation  of  a new  ministry 
was  entrusted  to  Pitt,  the  man  who  best  appre- 
ciated the  value  of  the  American  colonies.  But 
the  state  of  Pitt’s  health  was  not  such  as  to  war- 
rant his  taking  upon  himself  the  ar- 

TheDukeof  . b L.  . . T 

Grafton’s  duous  duties  oi  prime  minister.  He 
became  Lord  Privy  Seal,  and,  accepting 
the  earldom  of  Chatham,  passed  into  the  House  of 
Lords.  The  Duke  of  Grafton  became  prime 
minister,  under  Pitt’s  guidance  ; Conway  and 
Lord  Shelburne  were  secretaries  of  state,  and 
Camden  became  Lord  Chancellor,  — all  three  of 
them  warm  friends  of  America,  and  adopting 
the  extreme  American  view  of  the  constitutional 
questions  lately  at  issue  ; and  along  with  these  was 
Charles  Townshend,  the  evil  spirit  of  the  admin- 
istration, as  chancellor  of  the  exchequer.  From 
such  a ministry,  it  might  at  first  sight  seem 
strange  that  a fresh  quarrel  with  America  should 
have  proceeded.  But  Chatham’s  illness  soon  over- 
powered him,  so  that  he  was  kept  at  home  suf- 
fering excruciating  pain,  and  could  neither  guide 
nor  even  pay  due  attention  to  the  proceedings 
of  his  colleagues.  Of  the  rest  of  the  ministry, 
only  Conway  and  Townshend  were  in  the  House 
of  Commons,  where  the  real  direction  of  affairs 


THE  BEGINNINGS. 


29 


rested  ; and  when  Lord  Chatham  was  out  of  the 
way,  as  the  Duke  of  Grafton  counted  for  nothing, 
the  strongest  man  in  the  cabinet  was  unquestion- 
ably Townshend.  Now  when  an  act  for  raising 
an  American  revenue  was  proposed  by  Townshend, 
a prejudice  against  it  was  sure  to  be  excited  at 
once,  simply  because  every  American  knew  well 
what  Townshend’s  views  were.  It  would  have 
been  difficult  for  such  a man  even  xo  assume  a 
conciliatory  attitude  without  having  his  motives 
suspected  ; and  if  the  question  with  Great  Britain 
had  been  simply  that  of  raising  a revenue  on 
statesmanlike  principles,  it  would  have  been  well 
to  entrust  the  business  to  some  one  like  Lord 
Shelburne,  in  whom  the  Americans  had  confi- 
dence. In  1767,  Townshend  ventured  to  do  what 
in  any  English  ministry  of  the  present  day  would 
be  impossible.  In  flat  opposition  to  the  policy 
of  Chatham  and  the  rest  of  his  colleagues,  trust- 
ing in  the  favour  of  the  king  and  in  his  own  abib 
ity  to  coax  or  browbeat  the  House  of  Commons, 
he  brought  in  a series  of  new  measures  for  tax- 
ing America.  “ I expect  to  be  dismissed  for  my 
pains,”  he  said  in  the  House,  with  flippant  de- 
fiance ; and  indeed  he  came  very  near  it.  As 
soon  as  he  heard  what  was  going  on,  Chatham 
mustered  up  strength  enough  to  go  to  London  and 
insist  upon  Townshend’s  dismissal.  But  Lord 
North  was  the  only  person  that  could  be  thought 
of  to  take  Townshend’s  place,  and  Lord  North, 
who  never  could  bear  to  offend  the  king,  declined 
the  appointment.  Before  Chatham  could  devise 
a way  out  of  his  quandary,  his  malady  again  laid 


80 


THE  AMERICAN  BEVOLUTION . 


him  prostrate,  and  Townshend  was  not  only  not 
turned  out,  but  was  left  practically  supreme  in  the 
cabinet.  The  new  measures  for  taxing  America 
were  soon  passed.  In  the  debates  on  the  Stamp 
Act,  it  had  been  argued  that  while  Parliament  had 
no  right  to  impose  a direct  tax  upon  the  Amer- 
icans, it  might  still  properly  regulate  American 
trade  by  port  duties.  The  distinction  had  been 
insisted  upon  by  Pitt,  and  had  been  virtually  ac- 
knowledged by  the  Americans,  who  had  from 
time  to  time  submitted  to  acts  of  Parliament  im- 
posing duties  upon  merchandise  imported  into  the 
colonies.  Nay,  more,  when  charged  with  inconsis- 
/ tency  for  submitting  to  such  acts  while  resisting 
the  Stamp  Act,  several  leading  Americans  had 
explicitly  adopted  the  distinction  be- 
tween internal  and  external  taxation, 
and  declared  themselves  ready  to  submit  to  the  lat- 
ter while  determined  to  resist  the  former.  Towns- 
hend was  now  ready,  as  he  declared,  to  take  them 
at  their  word.  By  way  of  doing  so,  he  began  by 
laughing  to  scorn  the  distinction  between  internal 
and  external  taxation,  and  declaring  that  Par- 
liament possessed  the  undoubted  right  of  taxing 
the  Americans  without  their  own  consent;  but 
since  objections  had  been  raised  to  a direct  tax, 
he  was  willing  to  resort  to  port  duties,  — a meas- 
ure to  which  the  Americans  were  logically  bound 
to  assent.  Duties  were  accordingly  imposed  on 
wine,  oil,  and  fruits,  if  carried  directly  to  America 
from  Spain  or  Portugal ; on  glass,  paper,  lead, 
and  painters’  colours ; and  lastly  on  tea.  The  rev- 
enue to  be  derived  from  these  duties  was  to  be 


The  Towns- 
hend Acts. 


TUB  BEGINNINGS. 


31 


devoted  to  paying  a fixed  salary  to  tlie  royal  gov- 
ernors and  to  the  justices  appointed  at  the  king’s 
pleasure.  The  Crown  was  also  empowered  to 
create  a general  civil  list  in  every  colony,  and  to 
grant  salaries  and  pensions  at  its  arbitrary  will. 
A board  of  revenue  commissioners  for  the  whole 
country  was  to  be  established  at  Boston,  armed 
with  extraordinary  powers;  and  general  writs  of 
assistance  were  expressly  legalized  and  permitted. 

Such  was  the  way  in  which  Townshend  pro- 
ceeded to  take  the  Americans  at  their  word.  His 
course  was  a distinct  warning  to  the  Americans 
that,  if  they  yielded  now,  they  might  expect 
some  new  Stamp  Act  or  other  measures  of  direct 
taxation  to  follow;  and  so  it  simply  invited  re- 
sistance. That  no  doubt  might  be  left  on  this 
point,  the  purpose  for  which  the  revenue  was  to 
be  used  showed  clearly  that  the  object  of  this 
legislation  was  not  to  regulate  trade,  but  to  as- 
sert British  supremacy  over  the  colonies  at  the 
expense  of  their  political  freedom.  By  provid 
ing  for  a civil  list  in  each  colony,  to  be  respon- 
sible only  to  the  Crown,  it  aimed  at  American 
self-government  even  a more  deadly  blow  than 
bad  been  aimed  at  it  by  the  Stamp  Act.  It  med- 
dled with  the  “internal  police”  of  every  colony, 
and  would  thus  have  introduced  a most 
vexatious  form  or  tyranny  as  soon  as  New  York  ae~ 
it  had  taken  effect.  A special  act  by  sembly* 
which  the  Townshend  revenue  acts  were  accom- 
panied still  further  revealed  the  temper  and  pur- 
poses of  the  British  government.  The  colony  of 
New  York  had  been  required  to  provide  certain 


32 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


supplies  for  the  regular  troops  quartered  in  the 
city,  under  command  of  General  Gage ; and  the 
colonial  assembly  had  insisted  upon  providing 
these  supplies  in  its  own  way,  and  in  disregard 
of  special  instructions  from  England.  For  this 
offence,  Parliament  now  passed  an  act  suspending 
the  New  York  assembly  from  its  legislative  func- 
tions until  it  should  have  complied  with  the  in- 
structions regarding  the  supplies  to  the  army.  It 
need  not  be  said  that  the  precedent  involved  in 
this  act,  if  once  admitted,  would  have  virtually 
annulled  the  legislative  independence  of  every  one 
of  the  colonial  assemblies. 

We  may  perhaps  wonder  that  an  English  Par- 
liament should  have  been  prevailed  on  to  pass  such 
audacious  acts  as  these,  and  by  large  majorities. 
But  we  must  remember  that  in  those  days  the  Eng- 
lish system  of  representation  was  so  imperfect,  and 
had  come  to  be  so  overgrown  with  abuses, 

Parliament  . _ _ . . 

did  not  prop-  that  an  act  oi  Parliament  was  by  no 

erly  represent 

the  British  means  sure  to  represent  the  average 
judgment  of  the  English  people.  The 
House  of  Commons  was  so  far  under  the  corrupt 
influence  of  the  aristocracy,  and  was  so  inade- 
quately controlled  by  popular  opinion,  that  at  al- 
most any  time  it  was  possible  for  an  eloquent, 
determined,  and  unscrupulous  minister  to  carry 
measures  through  it  such  as  could  never  have  been 
carried  through  any  of  the  reformed  Parliaments 
since  1832.  It  is  not  easy,  perhaps,  to  say  with 
confidence  what  the  popular  feeling  in  England 
was  in  1767  with  reference  to  the  policy  of  Charles 
Townshend.  The  rural  population  was  much  more 


TUE  BEGINNINGS. 


33 


ignorant  than  it  is  to-day,  and  its  political  opinions 
were  strongly  influenced  by  the  country  squires,  — ■ 
a worthy  set  of  men,  but  not  generally  distinguished 
for  the  flexibility  of  their  minds  or  the  breadth  of 
their  views.  But  as  a sample  of  the  most  intelli- 
gent popular  feeling  in  England  at  that  time,  it 
will  probably  not  be  unfair  to  cite  that  of  the 
city  of  London,  which  was  usually  found  arrayed 
on  the  side  of  free  government.  No  wiser  advice 
was  heard  in  Parliament,  on  the  subject  of  the  New 
York  dispute,  than  was  given  by  alderman  Beck- 
ford,  father  of  the  illustrious  author  of  Yathek, 
when  he  said,  “ Do  like  the  best  of  physicians,  and 
heal  the  disease  by  doing  nothing.”  On  many 
other  important  occasions  in  the  course  of  this  un- 
fortunate quarrel,  the  city  of  London  gave  expres- 
sion to  opinions  which  the  king  and  Parliament 
would  have  done  well  to  heed.  But  even  if  the 
House  of  Commons  had  reflected  popular  feeling 
in  1767  as  clearly  as  it  has  done  since  1832,  it  is 
by  no  means  sure  that  it  would  have  known  how 
to  deal  successfully  with  the  American  question. 
The  problem  was  really  a new  one  in  political  his- 
tory ; and  there  was  no  adequate  precedent  to 
guide  the  statesmen  in  dealing  with  the  peculiar 
combination  of  considerations  it  involved.  As  far 
as  concerned  the  relations  of  Englishmen  in  Eng- 
land to  the  Crown  and  to  Parliament,  the  British 
Constitution  had  at  last  reached  a point  where  it 
worked  quite  smoothly.  All  contingencies  likely 
to  arise  seemed  to  have  been  provided  for.  But 
when  it  came  to  the  relations  of  Englishmen  in 
America  to  the  Crown  and  to  Parliament,  the  case 


84 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


was  very  different.  The  case  had  its  peculiar  con. 
ditions,  which  the  British  Constitution  in  skilful 
hands  would  no  doubt  have  proved  elastic  enough 
to  satisfy  ; but  just  at  this  time  the  British  Consti- 
tution happened  to  be  in  very  unskilful  hands,  and 
wholly  failed  to  meet  the  exigencies  of  the  occa- 
Difflcuity  of  si°n-  The  chief  difficulty  lay  in  the 
the  problem.  fac£  that  while  on  the  one  hand  the 
American  principle  of  no  taxation  without  repre- 
sentation was  unquestionably  sound  and  just,  on 
the  other  hand  the  exemption  of  any  part  of  the 
British  Empire  from  the  jurisdiction  of  Parliament 
seemed  equivalent  to  destroying  the  political  unity 
of  the  empire.  This  could  not  but  seem  to  any 
English  statesman  a most  lamentable  result,  and 
no  English  statesman  felt  this  more  strongly  than 
Lord  Chatham. 

There  were  only  two  possible  ways  in  which  the 
difference  could  be  accommodated.  Either  the 
American  colonies  must  elect  representatives  to  the 
Parliament  at  Westminster;  or  else  the  right  of 
levying  taxes  must  be  left  where  it  already  resided, 
in  their  own  legislative  bodies.  The  first  alter- 
native was  seriously  considered  by  eminent  politi- 
cal thinkers,  both  in  England  and  America.  In 
England  it  was  favourably  regarded  by  Adam 
Smith,  and  in  America  by  Benjamin  Franklin  and 
James  Otis.  In  1774,  some  of  the  loyalists  in  the 
first  Continental  Congress  recommended  such  a 
scheme.  In  1778,  after  the  overthrow  of  Bur- 
goyne,  the  king  himself  began  to  think  favourably 
of  such  a way  out  of  the  quarrel.  But  this  alter- 
native was  doubtless  from  the  first  quite  visionary 


THE  BEGINNINGS. 


35 


and  unpractical.  The  difficulties  in  the  way  of 
securing  anything  like  equality  of  representation 
would  probably  have  been  insuperable ; Representa- 
and  the  difficulty  in  dividing  jurisdiction 
( fairly  between  the  local  colonial  legisla-  ment* 

1 ture  and  the  American  contingent  in  the  Parliament 
at  Westminster  would  far  have  exceeded  any  of 
the  difficulties  that  have  arisen  in  the  attempt  to 
adjust  the  relations  of  the  several  States  to  the 
general  government  in  our  Federal  Union.  Mere 
distance,  too,  which  even  to-day  would  go  far  to- 
ward rendering  such  a scheme  impracticable, 
would  have  been  a still  more  fatal  obstacle  in  the 
days  of  Chatham  and  Townshend.  If,  even  with 
the  vast  enlargement  of  the  political  horizon  which 
our  hundred  years’  experience  of  federalism  has  ef- 
fected, the  difficulty  of  such  a union  still  seems  so 
great,  we  may  be  sure  it  would  have  proved  quite 
insuperable  then.  The  only  practicable  solution 
would  have  been  the  frank  and  cordial  admission, 
by  the  British  government,  of  the  essential  sound- 
ness of  the  American  position,  that,  in  accordance 
with  the  entire  spirit  of  the  English  Constitution, 
the  right  of  levying  taxes  in  America  resided  only 
in  the  colonial  legislatures,  in  which  alone  could 
American  freemen  be  adequately  represented. 
Nor  was  there  really  any  reason  to  fear  that  such 
a step  would  imperil  the  unity  of  the  empire.  How 
mistaken  this  fear  was,  on  the  part  of  English 
statesmen,  is  best  shown  by  the  fact  that,  in  her 
liberal  and  enlightened  dealings  with  her  colo- 
nies at  the  present  day,  England  has  consistently 
adopted  the  very  course  of  action  which  alone 


36 


TI1E  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


would  have  conciliated  such  men  as  Samuel  Adams 
in  the  days  of  the  Stamp  Act.  By  pursuing  such 
a policy,  the  British  government  has  to-day  a gen- 
uine hold  upon  the  affections  of  its  pioneers  in 
Australia  and  New  Zealand  and  Africa.  If  such 
a statesman  as  Gladstone  could  have  dealt  freely 
with  the  American  question  during  the  twelve 
years  following  the  Peace  of  Paris,  the  history  of 
that  time  need  not  have  been  the  pitiable  story  of 
a blind  and  obstinate  effort  to  enforce  submission 
to  an  ill-considered  and  arbitrary  policy  on  the 
part  of  the  king  and  his  ministers.  The  feeling  by 
which  the  king’s  party  was  guided,  in  the  treat- 
ment of  the  American  question,  was  very  much  the 
same  as  the  feeling  which  lately  inspired  the  Tory 
criticisms  upon  Gladstone’s  policy  in  South  Africa. 
Lord  Beaconsfield,  a man  in  some  respects  not  un- 
like Charles  Townshend,  bequeathed  to  his  succes- 
sor a miserable  quarrel  with  the  Dutch  farmers 
Mr.  Gladstone  °f  the  Transvaal ; and  Mr.  Gladstone, 
and  the  Boers.  af£er  examining  the  case  on  its  merits, 

had  the  moral  courage  to  acknowledge  that  Eng- 
land was  wrong,  and  to  concede  the  demands  of 
the  Boers,  even  after  serious  military  defeat  at 
their  hands.  Perhaps  no  other  public  act  of  Eng- 
land in  the  nineteenth  century  has  done  her  greater 
honour  than  this.  But  said  the  Jingoes,  All  the 
world  will  now  laugh  at  Englishmen,  and  call  them 
cowards.  In  order  to  vindicate  the  military  pres- 
tige of  England,  the  true  policy  would  be,  for- 
sooth, to  prolong  the  war  until  the  Boers  had  been 
once  thoroughly  defeated,  and  then  acknowledge 
the  soundness  of  their  position.  Just  as  if  the 


THE  BEGINNINGS . 


37 


whole  world  did  not  know,  as  well  as  it  can  pos- 
sibly know  anything,  that  whatever  qualities  the 
English  nation  may  lack,  it  certainly  does  not 
lack  courage,  or  the  ability  to  win  victories  in  a 
good  cause  ! All  honour  to  the  Christian  statesman 
who  dares  to  leave  England’s  military  prestige  to 
be  vindicated  by  the  glorious  records  of  a thousand 
years,  and  even  in  the  hour  of  well-merited  defeat 
sets  a higher  value  on  political  justice  than  on  a 
reputation  for  dealing  hard  blows ! Such  inci- 
dents as  this  are  big  with  hope  for  the  future. 
They  show  us  what  sort  of  political  morality  our 
children’s  children  may  expect  to  see,  when  man- 
kind shall  have  come  somewhat  nearer  toward  be- 
ing truly  civilized. 

In  the  eighteenth  century,  no  such  exhibition  of 
good  sense  and  good  feeling,  in  the  interest  of  po- 
litical justice,  could  have  been  expected  from  any 
European  statesman,  unless  from  a Turgot  or  a 
Chatham.  But  Charles  Townshend  was  not  even 
called  upon  to  exercise  any  such  self-control.  Had 
he  simply  taken  Alderman  Beckford’s  advice,  and 
done  nothing,  all  would  have  been  well ; but  his 
meddling  had  now  put  the  government  into  a posi- 
tion which  it  was  ruinous  to  maintain,  but  from 
which  it  was  difficult  to  retreat.  American  tradi- 
tion rightly  lays  the  chief  blame  for  the  troubles 
which  brought  on  the  Revolutionary  War  to 
George  III. ; but,  in  fairness,  it  is  well  to  remem- 
ber that  he  did  not  suggest  Townshend’s  measures, 
though  he  zealously  adopted  and  cherished  them 
when  once  propounded.  The  blame  for  wantonly 
throwing  the  apple  of  discord  belongs  to  Towns* 


38 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


hend  more  than  to  any  one  else.  After  doing  this, 
within  three  months  from  the  time  his  bill  had 
Death  of  passed  the  House  of  Commons,  Towns- 
Townshend.  hend  was  seized  with  a fever  and  died 
at  the  age  of  forty-one.  A man  of  extraordinary 
gifts,  but  without  a trace  of  earnest  moral  convic- 
tion, he  had  entered  upon  a splendid  career ; but  his 
insincere  nature,  which  turned  everything  into  jest, 
had  stamped  itself  upon  his  work.  He  bequeathed 
to  his  country  nothing  but  the  quarrel  which  was 
soon  to  deprive  her  of  the  grandest  part  of  that 
empire  upon  which  the  sun  shall  never  set. 

If  Townsliend’s  immediate  object  in  originating 
these  measures  was  to  curry  favour  with  George  III., 
and  get  the  lion’s  share  in  the  disposal  of  the 
king’s  ample  corruption-fund,  he  had  doubtless 
gone  to  work  in  the  right  way.  The  king  was  de- 
lighted with  Townshend’s  measures,  and  after  the  . 

sudden  death  of  his  minister  he  made 

His  political  i i i • i i 

JegacytOji  them  his  own,  and  staked  his  whole  po- 
litical career  as  a monarch  upon  their 
success.  These  measures  were  the  fatal  legacy 
which  the  brighter  political  charlatan  left  to  the 
duller  political  fanatic.  The  fierce  persistency 
with  which  George  now  sought  to  force  Towns- 
hend’s measures  upon  the  Americans  partook  of  the 
nature  of  fanaticism,  and  we  shall  not  understand 
it  unless  we  bear  in  mind  the  state  of  political  par- 
ties in  England  between  1760  and  1784.  When 
George  III.  came  to  the  throne,  in  1760,  England 
had  been  governed  for  more  than  half  a century  by 
the  great  Whig  families  which  had  been  brought 
into  the  foreground  by  the  revolution  of  1688. 


THE  BEGINNINGS . 


39 


The  Tories  had  been  utterly  discredited  and  cast 
out  of  political  life  by  reason  of  their  willingness  to 
conspire  with  the  Stuart  pretenders  in  disturbing 
the  peace  of  the  country.  Cabinet  government,  in 
its  modern  form,  had  begun  to  grow  up  during  the 
long  and  prosperous  administration  of  Sir  Robert 
Walpole,  who  was  the  first  English  prime  minister 
in  the  full  sense.  Under  Walpole’s  wise  and 
powerful  sway,  the  first  two  Georges  had  possessed 
scarcely  more  than  the  shadow  of  sovereignty.  It 
was  the  third  George’s  ambition  to  become  a real 
king,  like  the  king  of  France  or  the  king  of  Spain. 
From  earliest  babyhood,  his  mother  had  forever  been 
impressing  upon  him  the  precept,  “George,  be 
king ! ” and  this  simple  lesson  had  constituted 
pretty  much  the  whole  of  his  education.  Popular 
tradition  regards  him  as  the  most  ignorant  king  that 
ever  sat  upon  the  English  throne ; and  so  far  as 
general  culture  is  concerned,  this  opinion  is  un- 
doubtedly correct.  He  used  to  wonder  what  people 
could  find  to  admire  in  such  a wretched  driveller  as 
Shakespeare,  and  he  never  was  capable  of  under- 
standing any  problem  which  required  the  slightest 
trace  of  imagination  or  of  generalizing  power. 
Nevertheless,  the  popular  American  tra-  character  of 
dition  undoubtedly  errs  in  exaggerating  George  nL 
his  stupidity  and  laying  too  little  stress  upon  the 
worst  side  of  his  character.  George  III.  was  not 
destitute  of  a certain  kind  of  ability,  which  often 
gets  highly  rated  in  this  not  too  clear-sighted  world. 
Pie  could  see  an  immediate  end  very  distinctly,  and 
acquired  considerable  power  from  the  dogged  in- 
dustry with  which  he  pursued  it.  In  an  age  where 


40 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


some  of  the  noblest  English  statesmen  drank  their 
gallon  of  strong  wine  daily,  or  sat  late  at  the  gam- 
bling-table, or  lived  in  scarcely  hidden  concubinage, 
George  III.  was  decorous  in  personal  habits  and 
pure  in  domestic  relations,  and  no  banker’s  clerk 
in  London  applied  himself  to  the  details  of  business 
more  industriously  than  he.  He  had  a genuine 
talent  for  administration,  and  he  devoted  this  talent 
most  assiduously  to  selfish  ends.  Scantily  en- 
dowed with  human  sympathy,  and  almost  boorishly 
stiff  in  his  ordinary  unstudied  manner,  he  could  be 
smooth  as  oil  whenever  he  liked.  He  was  an  adept 
in  gaining  men’s  confidence  by  a show  of  interest, 
and  securing  their  aid  by  dint  of  fair  promises ; and 
when  he  found  them  of  no  further  use,  he  could 
turn  them  adrift  with  wanton  insult.  Any  one  who 
dared  to  disagree  with  him  upon  even  the  slightest 
point  of  policy  he  straightway  regarded  as  a nat- 
ural enemy,  and  pursued  him  ever  afterward  with 
vindictive  hatred.  As  a natural  consequence,  he 
surrounded  himself  with  weak  and  short-sighted 
• advisers,  and  toward  all  statesmen  of  broad  views 
and  independent  character  he  nursed  the  bitterest 
rancour.  He  had  little  faith  in  human  honour  or 
rectitude,  and  in  pursuing  an  end  he  was  seldom 
deterred  by  scruples. 

Such  was  the  man  who,  on  coming  to  the  throne 
in  1760,  had  it  for  his  first  and  chief est  thought  to 
break  down  the  growing  system  of  cabinet  gov- 
ernment in  England.  For  the  moment  circum- 
stances seemed  to  favour  him.  The  ascendancy  of 
the  great  Whig  families  was  endangered  on  two 
sides.  On  the  one  hand,  the  Tory  party  had  out- 


THE  BEGINNINGS. 


41 


lived  that  idle,  romantic  love  for  the  Stuarts  upon 
which  it  found  it  impossible  to  thrive.  The  Tories 
began  coming  to  court  again,  and  they  gave  the 
new  king  all  the  benefit  of  their  superstitious 
theories  of  high  prerogative  and  divine  „ , 

right.  On  the  other  hand,  a strong  ^between 

° # / ° 1760  and  1784. 

popular  feeling  was  beginning  to  grow 
up  against  parliamentary  government  as  conducted 
by  the  old  Whig  families.  The  House  of  Com- 
mons no  longer  fairly  represented  the  people.  An- 
cient boroughs,  which  possessed  but  a handful  of 
population,  or,  like  Old  Sarum,  had  no  inhabitants 
at  all,  still  sent  their  representatives  to  Parliament, 
while  great  cities  of  recent  growth,  such  as  Bir- 
mingham and  Leeds,  were  unrepresented.  To  a 
great  extent,  it  was  the  most  progressive  parts  of 
the  kingdom  which  were  thus  excluded  from  a 
share  in  the  government,  while  the  rotten  boroughs 
were  disposed  of  by  secret  lobbying,  or  even  by 
open  bargain  and  sale.  A few  Whig  families,  the 
heads  of  which  sat  in  the  House  of  Lords,  thus  vir- 
tually owned  a considerable  part  of  the  House  of 
Commons ; and,  under  such  circumstances,  it  was 
not  at  all  strange  that  Parliament  should  some- 
times, as  in  the  Wilkes  case,  array  itself  in  flat 
opposition  to  the  will  of  the  people.  The  only 
wonder  is  that  there  were  not  more  such  scandals. 
The  party  of  “ Old  Whigs,”  numbering  in  its 
ranks  some  of  the  ablest  and  most  patriotic  men  in 
England,  was  contented  with  this  state  of  things, 
upon  which  it  had  thrived  for  two  generations,  and 
could  not  be  made  to  understand  the  iniquity  of  it, 
— 3 any  more  than  an  old  cut-and-dried  American 


42 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


politician  in  our  time  can  be  made  to  understand 
the  iniquity  of  the  “ spoils  system.”  Of  this  party 
the  Marquis  of  Rockingham  was  the  political 
leader,  and  Edmund  Burke  was  the  great  represen- 
tative statesman.  In  strong  opposition  to  the  Old 
Whig  policy  there  had  grown  up  the  party  of  New 
Whigs,  bent  upon  bringing  about  some  measure  of 
parliamentary  reform,  whereby  the  House  of  Com- 
mons might  truly  represent  the  people  of  Great 
Britain.  In  Parliament  this  party  was  small  in 
numbers,  but  weighty  in  character,  and  at  its  head 
was  the  greatest  Englishman  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  the  elder  William  Pitt,  under  whose  guid- 
ance England  had  won  her  Indian  empire  and 
established  her  dominion  over  the  seas,  while  she 
had  driven  the  French  from  America,  and  enabled 
Frederick  the  Great  to  lay  the  foundations  of  mod- 
ern Germany. 

Now  when  George  III.  came  to  the  throne,  he 
George  III.  as  took  advantage  of  this  division  in  the 
a politician.  £wo  partjes  in  order  to  break  down  the 

power  of  the  Old  Whig  families,  which  so  long 
had  ruled  the  country.  To  this  end  he  used  the 
revived  Tory  party  with  great  effect,  and  bid 
against  the  Old  Whigs  for  the  rotten  boroughs  ; 
and  in  playing  off  one  set  of  prejudices  and  inter- 
ests against  another,  he  displayed  in  the  highest 
degree  the  cunning  and  craft  of  a self-seeking  pol- 
itician. His  ordinary  methods  would  have  aroused 
the  envy  of  Tammany.  While  engaged  in  such 
work,  he  had  sense  enough  to  see  that  the  party 
from  which  he  had  most  to  fear  was  that  of  the 
Mew  Whigs,  whose  scheme  of  parliamentary  reform, 


TIIE  BEGINNINGS. 


43 


flf  ever  successful,  would  deprive  him  of  the  ma- 
chinery of  corruption  upon  which  he  relied.  Much 
as  he  hated  the  Old  Whig  families,  he  hated  Pitt 
and  his  followers  still  more  heartily.  He  was  per- 
petually denouncing  Pitt  as  a “ trumpeter  of  sedi- 
tion,” and  often  vehemently  declared  in  public, 
and  in  the  most  offensive  manner,  that  he  wished 
that  great  man  were  dead.  Such  had  been  his 
eagerness  to  cast  discredit  upon  Pitt’s  policy  that 
he  had  utterly  lost  sight  of  the  imperial  interests 
of  England,  which  indeed  his  narrow  intelligence 
was  incapable  of  comprehending.  One  of  the  first 
acts  of  his  reign  had  been  to  throw  away  Cuba 
and  the  Philippine  Islands,  which  Pitt  had  just 
conquered  from  Spain  ; while  at  the  same  time, 
by  leaving  Prussia  in  the  lurch  before  the  Seven 
Years’  War  had  fairly  closed,  he  converted  the 
great  Frederick  from  one  of  England’s  warmest 
friends  into  one  of  her  bitterest  enemies. 

This  political  attitude  of  George  III.  toward  the 
Whigs  in  general,  and  toward  Pitt  in 
particular,  explains  the  fierce  obsti-  son  for  quar- 

1 # §A  # relmg  with 

nacy  with  which  he  took  up  and  carried  the  Ameri- 

* cans. 

on  Townshend’s  quarrel  with  the  Amer- 
ican colonies.  For  if  the  American  position,  that 
there  should  be  no  taxation  without  representation, 
were  once  to  be  granted,  then  it  would  straightway 
become  necessary  to  admit  the  principles  of  parlia- 
mentary reform.  The  same  principle  that  applied 
to  such  commonwealths  as  Massachusetts  and  Vir- 
ginia would  be  forthwith  applied  to  such  towns  as 
Birmingham  and  Leeds.  The  system  of  rotten 
boroughs  would  be  swept  away ; the  chief  engine 


44 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


of  kingly  corruption  would  thus  be  destroyed ; a 
reformed  House  of  Commons,  with  the  people  at 
its  back,  would  curb  forever  the  pretensions  of  the 
Crown;  and  the  detested  Lord  Chatham  would 
become  the  real  ruler  of  a renovated  England,  in 
which  George  III.  would  be  a personage  of  very 
little  political  importance. 

In  these  considerations  we  find  the  explanation 
of  the  acts  of  George  III.  which  brought  on  the 
American  Revolution,  and  we  see  why  it  is  histor- 
ically correct  to  regard  him  as  the  person  chiefly 
responsible  for  the  quarrel.  The  obstinacy  with 
which  he  refused  to  listen  to  a word  of  reason 
from  America  was  largely  due  to  the  exigencies  of 
the  political  situation  in  which  he  found  himself. 
For  him,  as  well  as  for  the  colonies,  it  was  a des- 
perate struggle  for  political  existence.  He  was 
glad  to  force  on  the  issue  in  America  rather  than 
in  England,  because  it  would  be  comparatively 
easy  to  enlist  British  local  feeling  against  the 
Americans  as  a remote  set  of  “ rebels,”  with  whom 
Englishmen  had  no  interests  in  common,  and  thus 
obscure  the  real  nature  of  the  issue.  Herein  he 
showed  himself  a cunning  politician,  though  an 
ignoble  statesman.  By  playing  off  against  each 
other  the  two  sections  of  the  Whig  party,  he  con- 
tinued for  a while  to  carry  his  point ; and  had  he 
succeeded  in  overcoming  the  American  resistance 
and  calling  into  England  a well-trained  army 
of  victorious  mercenaries,  the  political  quarrel 
there  could  hardly  have  failed  to  develop  into 
a civil  war.  A new  rebellion  would  perhaps 
laave  overthrown  George  III.  as  James  II.  had 


THE  BEGINNINGS. 


45 


been  overthrown  a century  before.  As  it  was, 
the  victory  of  the  Americans  put  an  end  to  the 
personal  government  of  the  king  in  1784,  so  quietly 
that  the  people  scarcely  realized  the  change.1  A 
peaceful  election  accomplished  what  otherwise 
could  hardly  have  been  effected  without  bloodshed. 
So  while  George  III.  lost  the  fairest  portion  of  the 
British  Empire,  it  was  the  sturdy  Americans  who, 
fighting  the  battle  of  freedom  at  once  for  the  Old 
World  and  for  the  New,  ended  by  overwhelming 
his  paltry  schemes  for  personal  aggrandizement  in 
hopeless  ruin,  leaving  him  for  posterity  to  con- 
template as  one  of  the  most  instructive  examples 
of  short-sighted  folly  that  modern  history  affords. 

1 See  my  Critical  Period  of  American  History,  chap*  i 


CHAPTER  II. 


THE  CRISIS. 

Townshend  was  succeeded  in  the  exchequer 
~ ^ by  Lord  North,  eldest  son  of  the  Earl 

of  Guildford,  a young  man  of  sound 
judgment,  wide  knowledge,  and  rare  _ sweetness  of 
temper,  but  wholly  lacking  in  sympathy  with  pop- 
ular government.  As  leader  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, he  was  sufficiently  able  in  debate  to  hold 
his  ground  against  the  fiercest  attacks  of  Burke 
and  Fox,  but  he  had  no  strength  of  will.  His 
lazy  good-nature  and  his  Tory  principles  made 
him  a great  favourite  with  the  king,  who,  through 
his  influence  over  Lord  North,  began  now  to  ex- 
ercise the  power  of  a cabinet  minister,  and  to  take 
a more  important  part  than  hitherto  in  the  direc- 
tion of  affairs.  Soon  after  North  entered  the  cab- 
inet, colonial  affairs  were  taken  from  Lord  Shel- 
burne and  put  in  charge  of  Lord  Hillsborough, 
a man  after  the  king’s  own  heart.  Conway  was 
dismissed  from  the  cabinet,  and  his  place  was 
taken  by  Lord  Weymouth,  who  had  voted  against 
the  repeal  of  the  Stamp  Act.  The  Earl  of  Sand- 
wich, who  never  spoke  of  the  Americans  but  in 
terms  of  abuse,  was  at  the  same  time  made  post- 
master-general; and  in  the  following  year  Lord 
Chatham  resigned  the  privy  seal. 


THE  CRISIS. 


47 


While  the  ministry,  by  these  important  changes, 
was  becoming  more  and  more  hostile  to  the  just 
claims  of  the  Americans,  those  claims  John  Dickin. 
were  powerfully  urged  in  America,  both  son- 
in  popular  literature  and  in  well-considered  state 
papers.  J ohn  Dickinson,  at  once  a devoted  friend 
of  England  and  an  ardent  American  patriot,  pub- 
lished his  celebrated  Farmer’s  Letters,  which  were 
greatly  admired  in  both  countries  for  their  tem- 
perateness of  tone  and  elegance  of  expression.  In 
these  letters,  Dickinson  held  a position  quite  sim- 
ilar to  that  occupied  by  Burke.  Recognizing  that 
the  constitutional  relations  of  the  colonies  to  the 
mother  country  had  always  been  extremely  vague 
and  ill-defined,  he  urged  that  the  same  state  of 
things  should  be  kept  up  forever  through  a genu- 
ine English  feeling  of  compromise,  which  should 
refrain  from  pushing  any  abstract  theory  of  sov- 
ereignty to  its  extreme  logical  conclusions.  At 
the  same  time,  he  declared  that  the  Townshend 
revenue  acts  were  “ a mosr  dangerous  innovation  ” 
upon  the  liberties  of  the  people,  and  significantly 
hinted  that,  should  the  ministry  persevere  in  its 
tyrannical  policy,  “English  history  affords  ex- 
amples of  resistance  by  force.” 

While  Dickinson  was  publishing  these  letters, 
Samuel  Adams  wrote  for  the  Massachu- 
setts assembly  a series  of  addresses  to  chusetts  Cir- 
the  ministry,  a petition  to  the  king,  and 
a circular  letter  to  the  assemblies  of  the  other 
colonies.  In  these  very  able  state  papers,  Adams 
declared  that  a proper  representation  of  American 
interests  in  the  British  Parliament  was  imprao- 


48 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION . 


ticable,  and  that,  in  accordance  with  the  spirit  of 
the  English  Constitution,  no  taxes  could  be  levied 
in  America  except  by  the  colonial  legislatures.  He 
argued  that  the  Townshend  acts  were  unconstitu- 
tional, and  asked  that  they  should  be  repealed, 
and  that  the  colonies  should  resume  the  position 
which  they  had  occupied  before  the  beginning 
of  the  present  troubles.  The  petition  to  the  king 
was  couched  in  beautiful  and  touching  language, 
but  the  author  seems  to  have  understood  very 
well  how  little  effect  it  was  likely  to  produce. 
His  daughter,  Mrs.  Wells,  used  to  tell  how  one 
evening,  as  her  father  had  just  finished  writing 
this  petition,  and  had  taken  up  his  hat  to  go  out, 
she  observed  that  the  paper  would  soon  be  touched 
by  the  royal  hand.  44  More  likely,  my  dear,”  he 
replied,  44  it  will  be  spurned  by  the  royal  foot ! ” 
Adams  rightly  expected  much  more  from  the  cir- 
cular letter  to  the  other  colonies,  in  which  he  in- 
vited them  to  cooperate  with  Massachusetts  in 
resisting  the  Townshend  acts,  and  in  petitioning 
for  their  repeal.  The  assembly,  having  adopted 
all  these  papers  by  a large  majority,  was  forth- 
with prorogued  by  Governor  Bernard,  who,  in  a 
violent  speech,  called  them  demagogues  to  whose 
happiness  44  everlasting  contention  was  necessary.” 
But  the  work  was  done.  The  circular  letter 
brought  encouraging  replies  from  the  other  col- 
onies. The  condemnation  of  the  Townshend  acts 
was  unanimous,  and  leading  merchants  in  most  of 
the  towns  entered  into  agreements  not  to  import 
any  more  English  goods  until  the  acts  should  be 
repealed.  Ladies  formed  associations,  under  the 


THE  CRISIS. 


49 


name  of  Daughters  of  Liberty,  pledging  them- 
selves to  wear  homespun  clothes  and  to  abstain 
from  drinking  tea.  The  feeling  of  the  country 
was  thus  plainly  enough  expressed,  but  nowhere 
as  yet  was  there  any  riot  or  disorder,  and  no  one 
as  yet,  except,  perhaps,  Samuel  Adams,  had  begun 
to  think  of  a political  separation  from  England. 
Even  he  did  not  look  upon  such  a course  as  desir- 
able, but  the  treatment  of  his  remonstrances  by 
the  king  and  the  ministry  soon  led  him  to  change 
his  opinion. 

The  petition  of  the  Massachusetts  assembly  was 
received  by  the  king  with  silent  contempt,  but  the 
circular  letter  threw  him  into  a rage.  In  cabinet 
meeting,  it  was  pronounced  to  be  little  better 
than  an  overt  act  of  rebellion,  and  the  ministers 
were  encouraged  in  this  opinion  by  letters  from 
Bernard,  who  represented  the  whole  affair  as  the 
wicked  attempt  of  a few  vile  demagogues  to  sow 
the  seeds  of  dissension  broadcast  over  the  con- 
tinent. We  have  before  had  occasion  to  observe 
the  extreme  jealousy  with  which  the  Crown  had 
always  regarded  any  attempt  at  con-  Lord  Hillg_ 
certed  action  among  the  colonies  which 
did  not  originate  with  itself.  But  here  Bernard* 
was  an  attempt  at  concerted  action  in  flagrant 
opposition  to  the  royal  will.  Lord  Hillsborough 
instructed  Bernard  to  command  the  assembly  to 
rescind  their  circular  letter,  and,  in  case  of  their 
refusal,  to  send  them  home  about  their  business. 
This  was  to  be  repeated  year  after  year,  so  that, 
until  Massachusetts  should  see  fit  to  declare  her- 
self humbled  and  penitent,  she  must  go  without 


50 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


a legislature.  At  the  same  time,  Hillsborough 
ordered  the  assemblies  in  all  the  other  colonies  to 
treat  the  Massachusetts  circular  with  contempt,  — 
and  this,  too,  under  penalty  of  instant  dissolution. 
From  a constitutional  point  of  view,  these  arro- 
gant orders  deserve  to  be  ranked  among  the  curi- 
osities of  political  history.  They  serve  to  mark 
the  rapid  progress  the  ministry  was  making  in 
the  art  of  misgovernment.  A year  before,  Towns- 
hend  had  suspended  the  New  York  legislature  by 
an  act  of  Parliament.  Now,  a secretary  of  state, 
by  a simple  royal  order,  threatened  to  suspend  all 
the  legislative  bodies  of  America  unless  they  should 
vote  according  to  his  dictation. 

When  Hillsborough’s  orders  were  laid  before 
the  Massachusetts  assembly,  they  were  greeted 
with  scorn.  “We  are  asked  to  rescind,”  said  Otis. 

“ Let  Britain  rescind  her  measures,  or 

The  “ Illustri-  . _ ,, 

ous  Ninety-  the  colonies  are  lost  to  her  forever. 

Nevertheless,  it  was  only  after  nine 
days  of  discussion  that  the  question  was  put,  when 
the  assembly  decided,  by  a vote  of  ninety-two  to 
seventeen,  that  it  would  not  rescind  its  circular  let- 
ter. Bernard  immediately  dissolved  the  assembly, 
but  its  vote  was  hailed  with  delight  throughout 
the  country,  and  the  “ Illustrious  Ninety-Two  ” be- 
came the  favourite  toast  on  all  convivial  occasions. 
Nor  were  the  other  colonial  assemblies  at  all  readier 
than  that  of  Massachusetts  to  yield  to  the  secre- 
tary’s dictation.  They  all  expressed  the  most  cor- 
dial sympathy  with  the  recommendations  of  the 
circular  letter ; and  in  several  instances  they  were 
dissolved  by  the  governors,  according  to  Hillsbor- 
ough’s instructions. 


THE  CRISIS. 


51 


While  these  fruitless  remonstrances  against  the 
Townshend  acts  had  been  preparing,  the  commis- 
sioners of  the  customs,  in  enforcing  the  acts,  had 
not  taken  sufficient  pains  to  avoid  irritating  the 
people.  In  the  spring  of  1768,  the  fifty-gun  frigate 
Romney  had  been  sent  to  mount  guard  in  the  liar= 
bour  of  Boston,  and  while  she  lay  there  several  of 
the  citizens  were  seized  and  impressed  as  seamen,  — 
a lawless  practice  long  afterward  com-  Impressment 
mon  in  the  British  navy,  but  already  stig-  of  citizens- 
matized  as  barbarous  by  public  opinion  in  America. 
As  long  ago  as  1747,  when  the  relations  between 
the  colonies  and  the  home  government  were  quite 
harmonious,  resistance  to  the  press-gang  had  re- 
sulted in  a riot  in  the  streets  of  Boston.  Now  while 
the  town  was  very  indignant  over  this  lawless 
kidnapping  of  its  citizens,  on  the  10th  of  June, 
1768,  John  Hancock’s  sloop  Liberty  was  seized  at 
the  wharf  by  a boat’s  crew  from  the  Romney,  for 
an  alleged  violation  of  the  revenue  laws,  though 
without  official  warrant.  Insults  and  recrimina- 
tions ensued  between  the  officers  and  the  citizens 
assembled  on  the  wharf,  until  after  a while  the 
excitement  grew  into  a mild  form  of  riot,  in  which 
a few  windows  were  broken,  some  of  the  officers 
were  pelted,  and  finally  a pleasure-boat,  belonging 
to  the  collector,  was  pulled  up  out  of  the  water, 
carried  to  the  Common,  and  burned  there,  when 
Hancock  and  Adams,  arriving  upon  the  scene,  put 
a stop  to  the  commotion.  A few  days  afterward, 
a town  meeting  was  held  in  Faneuil  Hall  ; but 
as  the  crowd  was  too  great  to  be  contained  in  the 
building,  it  was  adjourned  to  the  Old  South 


52 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


Meeting-House,  where  Otis  addressed  the  people 
from  the  pulpit.  A petition  to  the  governor  was 
prepared,  in  which  it  was  set  forth  that  the 
impressment  of  peaceful  citizens  was  an  illegal 
act,  and  that  the  state  of  the  town  was  as  if 
war  had  been  declared  against  it ; and  the  gov- 
ernor was  requested  to  order  the  instant  removal 
of  the  frigate  from  the  harbour.  A committee 
of  twenty-one  leading  citizens  was  appointed  to 
deliver  this  petition  to  the  governor  at  his  house 
in  Jamaica  Plain.  In  his  letters  to  the  secretary 
of  state,  Bernard  professed  to  live  in  constant 
fear  of  assassination,  and  was  always  begging  for 
troops  to  protect  him  against  the  incendiary  and 
blackguard  mob  of  Boston.  Yet  as  he  looked 
down  the  beautiful  road  from  his  open  window, 
that  summer  afternoon,  what  he  saw  was  not  a 
ragged  mob,  armed  with  knives  and  bludgeons, 
shouting  “ Liberty,  or  death  ! ” and  bearing  the 
head  of  a revenue  collector  aloft  on  the  point  of  a 
pike,  but  a quiet  procession  of  eleven  chaises,  from 
which  there  alighted  at  his  door  twenty-one  gentle- 
men, as  sedate  and  stately  in  demeanour  as  those 
old  Roman  senators  at  whom  the  Gaulish  chief  so 
marveled.  There  followed  a very  affable  inter- 
view, during  which  wine  was  passed  around.  The 
next  day  .the  governor’s  answer  was  read  in  town 
meeting,  declining  to  remove  the  frigate,  but  prom- 
ising that  in  future  there  should  be  no  impress- 
ment of  Massachusetts  citizens  ; and  with  this  com- 
promise the  wrath  of  the  people  was  for  a moment 
assuaged. 

Affairs  of  this  sort,  reported  with  gross  exagger- 


THE  CRISIS. 


53 


ation  by  the  governor  and  revenue  commissioners 
to  the  ministry,  produced  in  England  the  impres- 
sion that  Boston  was  a lawless  and  riotous  town, 
full  of  cutthroats  and  blacklegs,  whose  violence 
could  be  held  in  check  only  by  martial  law.  Of 
all  the  misconceptions  of  America  by  England 
which  brought  about  the  American  Kevolution, 
perhaps  this  notion  of  the  turbulence  of  Boston 
was  the  most  ludicrous.  During  the  ten  years  of 
excitement  which  preceded  the  War  of  Indepen- 
dence there  was  one  disgraceful  riot  in  Boston,  — 
that  in  which  Hutchinson’s  house  was  sacked  ; but 
in  all  this  time  not  a drop  of  blood  was  shed  by 
the  people,  nor  was  anybody’s  life  for  a moment  in 
danger  at  their  hands.  The  episode  of  the  sloop 
Liberty,  as  here  described,  was  a fair  sample  of 
the  disorders  which  occurred  at  Boston  at  periods 
of  extreme  excitement ; and  in  any  European  town 
in  the  eighteenth  century  it  would  hardly  have 
been  deemed  worthy  of  mention. 

Even  before  the  affair  of  the  Liberty,  the  gov- 
ernment had  made  up  its  mind  to  send  troops  to 
Boston,  in  order  to  overawe  the  popular  party  and 
show  them  that  the  king  and  Lord  Hillsborough 
were  in  earnest.  The  news  of  the  Liberty  affair, 
however,  served  to  remove  any  hesitation  that  might 
hitherto  have  been  felt.  Vengeance  was  denounced 
against  the  insolent  town  of  Boston.  The  most 
seditious  spirits,  such  as  Otis  and  Ad-  statute  of 
ams,  must  be  made  an  example  of,  and  Sncemhtg1' 
thus  the  others  might  be  frightened  into  committed 
submission.  With  such  intent,  Lord  abroad‘” 
Hillsborough  sent  over  to  inquire  “ if  any  person 


54 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


had  committed  any  acts  which,  under  the  statutes, 
of  Henry  VIII.  against  treason  committed  abroad, 
might  justify  their  being  brought  to  England  for 
trial.”  This  raking-up  of  an  obsolete  statute,  en- 
acted at  one  of  the  worst  periods  of  English  his- 
tory, and  before  England  had  any  colonies  at  all, 
was  extremely  injudicious.  But  besides  all  this, 
continued  Hillsborough,  the  town  meeting,  that 
nursery  of  sedition,  must  be  put  down  or  overawed  ; 
and  in  pursuance  of  this  scheme,  two  regiments  of 
soldiers  and  a frigate  were  to  be  sent  over  to  Boston 
at  the  ministry’s  earliest  convenience.  To  make  an 
example  of  Boston,  it  was  thought,  would  have  a 
wholesome  effect  upon  the  temper  of  the  Americans. 

It  was  now,  in  the  summer  of  1768,  that  Samuel 
Adams  made  up  his  mind  that  there  was  no  hope 
of  redress  from  the  British  government,  and  that 
the  only  remedy  was  to  be  found  in  the  assertion 
_ , . . of  political  independence  by  the  Ameri- 

mSd3 1768  1x18  can  c°l°nies*  The  courteous  petitions 
and  temperate  remonstrances  of  the 
American  assemblies  had  been  met,  not  by  rational 
arguments,  but  by  insulting  and  illegal  royal  or- 
ders ; and  now  at  last  an  army  was  on  the  way 
from  England  to  enforce  the  tyrannical  measures 
of  government,  and  to  terrify  the  people  into  sub- 
mission. Accordingly,  Adams  came  to  the  con- 
clusion that  the  only  proper  course  for  the  colonies 
was  to  declare  themselves  independent  of  Great 
Britain,  to  unite  together  in  a permanent  confeder- 
ation, and  to  invite  European  alliances.  We  have 
his  own  word  for  the  fact  that  from  this  moment 
until  ihe  Declaration  of  Independence,  in  1776,  he 


THE  CRISIS. 


55 


consecrated  all  his  energies,  with  burning  enthusi- 
asm, upon  the  attainment  of  that  great  object. 
Yet  in  1768  no  one  knew  better  than  Samuel 
Adams  that  the  time  had  not  yet  come  when  his 
bold  policy  could  be  safely  adopted,  and  that  any 
premature  attempt  at  armed  resistance  on  the  part 
of  Massachusetts  might  prove  fatal.  At  this  time, 
probably  no  other  American  statesman  had  thought 
the  matter  out  so  far  as  to  reach  Adams’s  conclu- 
sions. No  American  had  as  yet  felt  any  desire  to 
terminate  the  political  connection  with  England. 
Even  those  who  most  thoroughly  condemned  the 
measures  of  the  government  did  not  consider  the 
case  hopeless,  but  believed  that  in  one  way  or  an- 
other a peaceful  solution  was  still  attainable.  For 
a long  time  this  attitude  was  sincerely  and  patiently 
maintained.  Even  Washington,  when  he  came  to 
take  command  of  the  army  at  Cambridge,  after  the 
battle  of  Bunker  Hill,  had  not  made  up  his  mind 
that  the  object  of  the  war  was  to  be  the  indepen- 
dence of  the  colonies.  In  the  same  month  of  July, 
1775,  Jefferson  said  expressly,  “ We  have  not  raised 
armies  with  designs  of  separating  from  Great  Brit- 
ain and  establishing  independent  states.  Necessity 
has  not  yet  driven  us  into  that  desperate  meas- 
ure.” The  Declaration  of  Independence  was  at  last 
brought  about  only  with  difficulty  and  after  pro- 
longed discussion.  Our  great-great-grandfathers 
looked  upon  themselves  as  Englishmen,  and  felt 
proud  of  their  connection  with  England.  Their 
determination  to  resist  arbitrary  measures  was  at 
first  in  no  way  associated  in  their  minds  with  disaf- 
fection toward  the  mother-country.  Besides  this, 


66 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


the  task  of  effecting  a separation  by  military  meas- 
ures seemed  to  most  persons  quite  hopeless.  It 
was  not  until  after  Bunker  Hill  had  shown  that 
American  soldiers  were  a match  for  British  sol- 
diers in  the  field,  and  after  Washington’s  capture 
of  Boston  had  shown  that  the  enemy  really  could 
be  dislodged  from  a whole  section  of  the  country, 
that  the  more  hopeful  patriots  began  to  feel  confix 
dent  of  the  ultimate  success  of  a war  for  indepen- 
dence. It  is  hard  for  us  now  to  realize  how  terrible 
the  difficulties  seemed  to  the  men  who  surmounted 
them.  Throughout  the  war,  beside  the  Tories  who 
openly  sympathized  with  the  enemy,  there  were 
many  worthy  people  who  thought  we  were  “ going 
too  far,”  and  who  magnified  our  losses  and  depre- 
ciated our  gains,  — quite  like  the  people  who,  in 
the  War  of  Secession,  used  to  be  called  “ croak- 
ers.” The  depression  of  even  the  boldest,  after 
such  defeats  as  that  of  Long  Island,  was  dreadful. 
How  inadequate  was  the  general  sense  of  our  real 
strength,  how  dim  the  general  comprehension  of 
the  great  events  that  were  happening,  may  best  be 
seen  in  the  satirical  writings  of  some  of  the  loyal- 
ists. At  the  time  of  the  French  alliance,  there 
were  many  who  predicted  that  the  result  of  this 
step  would  be  to  undo  the  work  of  the  Seven  Years’ 
War,  to  reinstate  the  French  in  America  with  full 
control  over  the  thirteen  colonies,  and  to  establish 
despotism  and  popery  all  over  the  continent.  A 
satirical  pamphlet,  published  in  1779,  just  ten 
years  before  the  Bastille  was  torn  down  in  Paris, 
drew  an  imaginary  picture  of  a Bastille  which  ten 
years  later  was  to  stand  in  New  York,  and,  with 


THE  CRISIS . 


57 


still  further  license  of  fantasy,  portrayed  Samuel 
Adams  in  the  garb  of  a Dominican  friar.  Such 
nonsense  is  of  course  no  index  to  the  sentiments  or 
the  beliefs  of  the  patriotic  American  people,  but 
the  mere  fact  that  it  could  occur  to  anybody  shows 
how  hard  it  was  for  people  to  realize  how  com- 
petent America  was  to  take  care  of  herself.  The 
more  we  reflect  upon  the  slowness  with  which 
the  country  came  to  the  full  consciousness  of  its 
power  and  importance,  the  more  fully  we  bring 
ourselves  to  realize  how  unwilling  America  was  to 
tear  herself  asunder  from  England,  and  how  the 
Declaration  of  Independence  was  only  at  last  re- 
sorted to  when  it  had  become  evident  that  no  other 
course  was  compatible  with  the  preservation  of 
our  self-respect;  the  more  thoroughly  we  realize 
all  this,  the  nearer  we  shall  come  toward  duly  esti- 
mating the  fact  that  in  1768,  seven  years  before 
the  battle  of  Lexington,  the  master  mind  of  Sam- 
uel Adams  had  fully  grasped  the  conception  of  a 
confederation  of  American  states  independent  of 
British  control.  The  clearness  with  which  he  saw 
this,  as  the  inevitable  outcome  of  the  political  con- 
ditions of  the  time,  gave  to  his  views  and  his  acts, 
in  every  emergency  that  arose,  a commanding  in- 
fluence throughout  the  land  that  was  simply  incal- 
culable. 

In  September,  1768,  it  was  announced  in  Boston 
that  the  troops  were  on  their  way,  and  would  soon 
be  landed.  There  happened  to  be  a legal  obstacle, 
unforeseen  by  the  ministry,  to  their  being  quartered 
in  the  town.  In  accordance  with  the  general  act  of 
Parliament  for  quartering  troops,  the  regular  bar- 


58 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


racks  at  Castle  William  in  the  harbour  would  have 
to  be  filled  before  the  town  could  be  required  to 
find  quarters  for  any  troops.  Another  clause  of 
the  act  provided  that  if  any  military  officer  should 
take  upon  himself  to  quarter  soldiers  in  any  of  his 
Majesty’s  dominions  otherwise  than  as  allowed  by 
the  act,  he  should  be  straightway  dismissed  the 
service.  At  the  news  that  the  troops 
troops  in  were  about  to  arrive,  the  governor  was 
asked  to  convene  the  assembly,  that  it 
might  be  decided  how  to  receive  them.  On  Ber- 
nard’s refusal,  the  selectmen  of  Boston  issued  a 
circular,  inviting  all  the  towns  of  Massachusetts  to 
send  delegates  to  a general  convention,  in  order 
that  deliberate  action  might  be  taken  upon  this 
important  matter.  In  answer  to  the  circular,  dele- 
gates from  ninety-six  towns  assembled  in  Eaneuil 
Hall,  and,  laughing  at  the  governor’s  order  to  “ dis- 
perse,” proceeded  to  show  how,  in  the  exercise  of 
the  undoubted  right  of  public  meeting,  the  colony 
could  virtually  legislate  for  itself,  in  the  absence 
of  its  regular  legislature.  The  convention,  finding 
that  nothing  was  necessary  for  Boston  to  do  but 
insist  upon  strict  compliance  with  the  letter  of  the 
law,  adjourned.  In  October,  two  regiments  ar- 
rived, and  were  allowed  to  land  without  opposition, 
but  no  lodging  was  provided  for  them.  Bernard, 
in  fear  of  an  affray,  had  gone  out  into  the  country ; 
but  nothing  could  have  been  farther  from  the 
thoughts  of  the  people.  The  commander,  Colonel 
Dalrymple,  requested  shelter  for  his  men,  but  was 
told  that  he  must  quarter  them  in  the  barracks  at 
Castle  William.  As  the  night  was  frosty,  how- 


THE  CRISIS. 


59 


ever,  the  Sons  of  Liberty  allowed  them  to  sleep 
in  Faneuil  Hall.  Next  day,  the  governor,  finding 
everything  quiet,  came  back,  and  heard  Dalrym- 
ple’s  complaint.  But  in  vain  did  he  apply  in  turn 
to  the  council,  to  the  selectmen,  and  to  the  justices 
of  the  peace,  to  grant  quarters  for  the  troops  ; he 
was  told  that  the  law  was  plain,  and  that  the  Castle 
must  first  be  occupied.  The  governor  then  tried 
to  get  possession  of  an  old  dilapidated  building 
which  belonged  to  the  colony ; but  the  tenants  had 
taken  legal  advice,  and  told  him  to  turn  them  out 
if  he  dared.  Nothing  could  be  more  provoking 
General  Gage  was  obliged  to  come  on  from  hi^ 
headquarters  at  New  York ; but  not  even  he,  the 
commander-in-chief  of  his  Majesty’s  forces  in 
America,  could  quarter  the  troops  in  violation  of 
the  statute  without  running  the  risk  of  being  cash- 
iered, on  conviction  before  two  justices  of  the  peace. 
So  the  soldiers  stayed  at  night  in  tents  on  the 
Common,  until  the  weather  grew  so  cold  that 
Dalrymple  was  obliged  to  hire  some  buildings  for 
them  at  exorbitant  rates,  and  at  the  expense  of  the 
Crown.  By  way  of  insult  to  the  people,  two  cam 
non  were  planted  on  King  Street,  with  their  muz* 
zles  pointing  toward  the  Town  House.  But  as  tha 
troops  could  do  nothing  without  a requisition  from 
a civil  magistrate,  and  as  the  usual  strict  decorum 
was  preserved  throughout  the  town,  there  was 
nothing  in  the  world  for  them  to  do.  In  case  of 
an  insurrection,  the  force  was  too  small  to  be  of 
any  use  ; and  so  far  as  the  policy  of  overawing  the 
town  was  concerned,  no  doubt  the  soldiers  were 
more  afraid  of  the  people  than  the  people  of  tha 
soldiers. 


60 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


No  sooner  were  the  soldiers  thus  established  in 
Boston  than  Samuel  Adams  published  a series  of 
Letters  of  letters  signed  “ Vindex,”  in  which  he 

Vmdex.  ’ argue(j  that  to  keep  up  “ a standing 

army  within  the  kingdom  in  time  of  peace,  without 
the  consent  of  Parliament,  was  against  the  law ; 
that  the  consent  of  Parliament  necessarily  implied 
the  consent  of  the  people,  who  were  always  present 
in  Parliament,  either  by  themselves  or  by  their 
representatives ; and  that  the  Americans,  as  they 
were  not  and  could  not  be  represented  in  Parlia- 
ment, were  therefore  suffering  under  military 
tyranny  over  which  they  were  allowed  to  exercise 
no  control.”  The  only  notice  taken  of  this  argu- 
ment by  Bernard  and  Hillsborough  was  an  attempt 
to  collect  evidence  upon  the  strength  of  which  its 
author  might  be  indicted  for  treason,  and  sent  over 
to  London  to  be  tried ; but  Adams  had  been  so 
wary  in  all  his  proceedings  that  it  was  impossible 
to  charge  him  with  any  technical  offence,  and  to 
have  seized  him  otherwise  than  by  due  process  of 
law  would  have  been  to  precipitate  rebellion  in 
Massachusetts. 

In  Parliament,  the  proposal  to  extend  the  act  of 
Henry  VIII.  to  America  was  bitterly  opposed  by 
Burke,  Barr6,  Pownall,  and  Dowdeswell,  and  even 
by  Grenville,  who  characterized  it  as  sheer  mad- 
ness ; but  the  measure  was  carried,  nevertheless. 
Burke  further  maintained,  in  an  eloquent  speech, 
Debate  in  that  the  royal  order  requiring  Massachu- 
Parhament.  sefljg  to  rescind  her  circular  letter  was 
unconstitutional ; and  here  again  Grenville  agreed 
with  him.  The  attention  of  Parliament,  during  the 


THE  CRISIS . 


61 


spring  of  1769,  was  occupied  chiefly  with  Amer- 
ican affairs.  Pownall  moved  that  the  Townshend 
acts  should  be  repealed,  and  in  this  he  was  ear- 
nestly seconded  by  a petition  of  the  London  mer- 
chants ; for  the  non-importation  policy  of  Ameri- 
cans had  begun  to  bear  hard  upon  business  in 
London.  After  much  debate,  Lord  North  pro- 
posed a compromise,  repealing  all  the  Townshend 
acts  except  that  which  laid  duty  on  tea.  The  more 
clearheaded  members  saw  that  such  a compromise, 
which  yielded  nothing  in  the  matter  of  principle, 
would  do  no  good.  Beckford  pointed  out  the  fact 
that  the  tea-duty  did  not  bring  in  <£300  to  the  gov- 
ernment ; and  Lord  Beauchamp  pertinently  asked 
whether  it  were  worth  while,  for  such  a paltry 
revenue,  to  make  enemies  of  three  millions  of  peo- 
ple. Grafton,  Camden,  Conway,  Burke,  Barre,  and 
Dowdeswell  wished  to  have  the  tea-duty  repealed 
also,  and  the  whole  principle  of  parliamentary  tax- 
ation given  up  ; and  Lord  North  agreed  with  them 
in  his  secret  heart,  but  could  not  bring  himself  to 
act  contrary  to  the  king’s  wishes.  “ America  must 
fear  you  before  she  can  love  you,”  said  Lord  North. 
. . . “ I am  against  repealing  the  last  act  of  Parlia- 
ment, securing  to  us  a revenue  out  of  America ; I 
will  never  think  of  repealing  it  until  I see  America 
prostrate  at  my  feet.”  “ To  effect  this,”  said  Barre, 
“ is  not  so  easy  as  some  imagine;  the  Americans  aro 
a numerous,  a respectable,  a hardy,  a free  people. 
But  were  it  ever  so  easy,  does  any  friend  to  his 
country  really  wish  to  see  America  thus  Colonel  Bar- 
humbled  ? In  such  a situation,  she  would  r6’8  8peech* 
serve  only  as  a monument  of  your  arrogance  and 


62 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


your  folly.  For  my  part,  the  America  I wish  to 
see  is  America  increasing  and  prosperous,  raising 
her  head  in  graceful  dignity,  with  freedom  and 
firmness  asserting  her  rights  at  your  bar,  vindicat- 
ing her  liberties,  pleading  her  services,  and  con- 
scious of  her  merit.  This  is  the  America  that  will 
have  spirit  to  fight  your  battles,  to  sustain  you 
when  hard  pushed  by  some  prevailing  foe,  and  by 
her  industry  will  be  able  to  consume  your  man- 
ufactures, support  your  trade,  and  pour  wealth 
and  splendour  into  your  towns  and  cities.  If  we  do 
not  change  our  conduct  towards  her,  America  will 
be  torn  from  our  side.  . . . Unless  you  repeal  this 
law,  you  run  the  risk  of  losing  America.”  But 
the  ministers  were  deaf  to  Barre’s  sweet  reason- 
ableness. “We  shall  grant  nothing  to  the  Ameri- 
cans,” said  Lord  Hillsborough,  “ except  what  they 
may  ask  with  a halter  round  tlieir  necks.”  “ They 
are  a race  of  convicted  felons,”  echoed  poor  old 
Dr.  Johnson,  — who  had  probably  been  reading 
M<dl  Flanders,  — “ and  they  ought  to  be  thankful 
for  anything  we  allow  them  short  of  hanging.” 

As  the  result  of  the  discussion,  Lord  North’s  so- 
called  compromise  was  adopted,  and  a circular  was 
sent  to  America,  promising  that  all  the  obnoxious 
acts,  except  the  tea-duty,  should  be  repealed.  At 
the  same  time,  Bernard  was  recalled  from  Massa- 
chusetts to  appease  the  indignation  of  the  people, 
and  made  a baronet  to  show  that  the  ministry 
Thomas  approved  of  his  conduct  as  governor. 
Hutchinson,  jj'g  piace  was  filled  by  the  lieutenant- 
governor,  Thomas  Hutchinson  a man  of  great 
learning  and  brilliant  talent,  whose  “History  of 


THE  CRISIS. 


63 


Massachusetts  Bay”  entitles  him  to  a high  rank 
among  the  worthies  of  early  American  literature. 
The  next  year  Hutchinson  was  appointed  governor. 
As  a native  of  Massachusetts,  it  was  supposed  by 
Lord  North  that  he  would  be  less  likely  to  irritate 
the  people  than  his  somewhat  arrogant  predeces- 
sor. But  in  this  the  government  turned  out  to  be 
mistaken.  As  to  Hutchinson’s  sincere  patriotism 
there  can  now  be  no  doubt  whatever.  There  was 
something  pathetic  in  the  intensity  of  his  love  for 
New  England,  which  to  him  was  the  goodliest  of 
all  lands,  the  paradise  of  this  world.  He  had  been 
greatly  admired  for  his  learning  and  accomplish- 
ments, and  the  people  of  Massachusetts  had  elected 
him  to  one  office  after  another,  and  shown  him 
every  mark  of  esteem  until  the  evil  days  of  the 
Stamp  Act.  It  then  appeared  that  he  was  a Tory 
on  principle,  and  a thorough  believer  in  the  Brit- 
ish doctrine  of  the  absolute  supremacy  of  Parlia- 
ment, and  popular  feeling  instantly  turned  against 
him.  He  was  called  a turncoat  and  traitor,  and 
a thankless  dog  withal,  whose  ruling  passion  was 
avarice.  His  conduct  and  his  motives  were  alike 
misjudged.  He  had  tried  to  dissuade  the  Gren- 
ville ministry  from  passing  the  Stamp  Act ; but 
when  once  the  obnoxious  measure  had  become  law, 
he  thought  it  his  duty  to  enforce  it  like  other  laws. 
For  this  he  was  charged  with  being  recreant  to  his 
own  convictions,  and  in  the  shameful  riot  of  Au- 
gust, 1765,  he  was  the  worst  sufferer.  No  public 
man  in  America  has  ever  been  the  object  of  more 
virulent  hatred.  None  has  been  more  grossly  mis- 
represented by  historians.  His  appointment  as 


64 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


governor,  however  well  meant,  turned  out  to  be 
anything  but  a wise  measure. 

While  these  things  were  going  on,  a strong  word 
of  sympathy  came  from  Yirginia.  When  Hills- 
borough made  up  his  mind  to  browbeat  Boston,  he 
thought  it  worth  while  to  cajole  the  Virginians,  and 
try  to  win  them  from  the  cause  which  Massachu- 
setts was  so  boldly  defending.  So  Lord  Botetourt, 
a most  genial  and  conciliatory  man,  was  sent  over 
to  be  governor  of  Virginia,  to  beguile  the  people 
with  his  affable  manner  and  sweet  discourse.  But 
between  a quarrelsome  Bernard  and  a gracious 
Botetourt  the  practical  difference  was  little,  where 
grave  questions  of  constitutional  right  were  in- 
Virginia  re.,0.  volved.  In  May,  1769,  the  Virginia 
lutions,  17G9.  legislature  assembled  at  Williamsburgh. 

Among  its  members  were  Patrick  Henry,  Wash- 
ington, and  Jefferson.  The  assembly  condemned 
the  Townshend  acts,  asserted  that  the  people  of 
Virginia  could  be  taxed  only  by  their  own  repre- 
sentatives, declared  that  it  was  both  lawful  and 
expedient  for  all  the  colonies  to  join  in  a protest 
against  any  violation  of  the  rights  of  Americans, 
and  especially  warned  the  king  of  the  dangers 
that  might  ensue  if  any  American  citizen  were  to 
be  carried  beyond  sea  for  trial.  Finally,  it  sent 
copies  of  these  resolutions  to  all  the  other  colonial 
assemblies,  inviting  their  concurrence.  At  this 
point  Lord  Botetourt  dissolved  the  assembly ; but 
the  members  straightway  met  again  in  convention 
at  the  famous  Apollo  room  of  the  Raleigh  tavern, 
and  adopted  a series  of  resolutions  prepared  by 
Washington,  in  which  they  pledged  themselves  to 


THE  CRISIS. 


65 


continue  the  policy  of  non-importation  until  all  the 
obnoxious  acts  of  1767  should  be  repealed.  These 
resolutions  were  adopted  by  all  the  southern  cola1 
nies. 

All  through  the  year  1769,  the  British  troops 
remained  quartered  in  Boston  at  the  king’s  ex- 
pense. According  to  Samuel  Adams,  their  princi- 
pal employment  seemed  to  be  to  parade  in  the 
streets,  and  by  their  merry-andrew  tricks  to  excite 
the  contempt  of  women  and  children.  But  the 
soldiers  did  much  to  annoy  the  people,  to  whom 
their  very  presence  was  an  insult.  They  led 
brawling,  riotous  lives,  and  made  the  quiet  streets 
hideous  by  night  with  their  drunken  shouts^ 
Scores  of  loose  women,  who  had  followed  the  regi- 
ments across  the  ocean,  came  to  scandalize  the 
town  for  a while,  and  then  to  encumber  the  alms- 
house. On  Sundays  the  soldiers  would  race  horses 
on  the  Common,  or  play  Yankee  Doodle  just  out- 
side the  church-doors  during  the  services.  Now 
and  then  oaths,  or  fisticuffs,  or  blows  with  sticks, 
were  exchanged  between  soldiers  and  citizens,  and 
once  or  twice  a more  serious  affair  occurred.  One 
evening  in  September,  a dastardly  as-  Assault  on 
sault  was  made  upon  James  Otis,  in  the  Jttme8°tl8“ 
British  Coffee  House,  by  one  Robinson,  a commit 
sioner  of  customs,  assisted  by  half  a dozen  army 
officers.  It  reminds  one  of  the  assault  upon 
Charles  Sumner  by  Brooks  of  South  Carolina, 
shortly  before  the  War  of  Secession.  Otis  was 
savagely  beaten,  and  received  a blow  on  the  head 
with  a sword,  from  the  effects  of  which  he  never  re- 
covered, but  finally  lost  his  reason.  The  popular 


66 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


wrath  at  this  outrage  was  intense,  but  there  was  no 
disturbance.  Otis  brought  suit  against  Robinson, 
and  recovered  £2,000  in  damages,  but  refused  to 
accept  a penny  of  it  when  Robinson  confessed 
himself  in  the  wrong,  and  humbly  asked  pardon 
for  his  irreparable  offence. 

On  the  22d  of  February,  1770,  an  informer 
named  Richardson,  being  pelted  by  a party  of 
school-boys,  withdrew  into  his  house,  opened  a 
window,  and  fired  at  random  into  the  crowd,  kill- 
ing one  little  boy  and  severely  wounding  another. 
He  was  found  guilty  of  murder,  but  was  pardoned. 
At  last,  on  the  2d  of  March,  an  angry  quarrel  oc- 
curred between  a party  of  soldiers  and  some  of  the 
workmen  at  a ropewalk,  and  for  two  or  three  days 
there  was  considerable  excitement  in  the  town,  and 
people  talked  together,  standing  about  the  streets 
in  groups ; but  Hutchinson  did  not  even  take  the 
precaution  of  ordering  the  soldiers  to  be  kept 
within  their  barracks,  for  he  did  not  believe  that 
the  people  intended  a riot,  nor  that  the  troops 
would  dare  to  fire  on  the  citizens  without  express 
permission  from  himself.  On  the  evening  of 
March  5th,  at  about  eight  o’clock,  a large  crowd 
collected  near  the  barracks,  on  Brattle  Street,  and 
from  bandying  abusive  epithets  with  the  soldiers 
began  pelting  them  with  snow-balls  and  striking 
at  them  with  sticks,  while  the  soldiers  now  and 
then  dealt  blows  with  their  muskets.  Presently 
The  “Boston  Captain  Goldfinch,  coming  along,  or- 
Massacre. M dered  the  men  into  their  barracks  for 
the  night,  and  thus  stopped  the  affray.  But 
meanwhile  some  one  had  got  into  the  Old  Brick 


THE  CRISIS. 


67 


Meeting-House,  opposite  the  head  of  King  Street, 
and  rung  the  bell ; and  this,  being  interpreted  as 
an  alarm  of  fire,  brought  out  many  people  into  the 
moonlit  streets.  It  was  now  a little  past  nine. 
The  sentinel  who  was  pacing  in  front  of  the  Cus- 
tom House  had  a few  minutes  before  knocked 
down  a barber’s  boy  for  calling  names  at  the  cap= 
tain,  as  he  went  up  to  stop  the  affray  on  Brattle 
Street.  The  crowd  in  King  Street  now  began  to 
pelt  the  sentinel,  and  some  shouted,  “ Kill  him  ! ” 
when  Captain  Preston  and  seven  privates  from  the 
twenty-ninth  regiment  crossed  the  street  to  his  aid : 
and  thus  the  file  of  nine  soldiers  confronted  an 
angry  crowd  of  fifty  or  sixty  unarmed  men,  who 
pressed  up  to  the  very  muzzles  of  their  guns,  threw 
snow  at  their  faces,  and  dared  them  to  fire.  All 
at  once,  but  quite  unexpectedly  and  probably  with- 
out orders  from  Preston,  seven  of  the  levelled 
pieces  were  discharged,  instantly  killing  four  men 
and  wounding  seven  others,  of  whom  two  after- 
wards died.  Immediately  the  alarm  was  spread 
through  the  town,  and  it  might  have  gone  hard 
with  the  soldiery,  had  not  Hutchinson  presently 
arrived  on  the  scene,  and  quieted  the  people  by 
ordering  the  arrest  of  Preston  and  his  men.  Next 
morning  the  council  advised  the  removal  of  one  of 
the  regiments,  but  in  the  afternoon  an  immense 
town  meeting,  called  at  Faneuil  Hall,  adjourned 
to  the  Old  South  Meeting-House ; and  as  they 
passed  by  the  Town  House,  the  lieutenant-govern- 
or, looking  out  upon  their  march,  judged  u their 
spirit  to  be  as  high  as  was  the  spirit  of  their 
ancestors  when  they  imprisoned  Andros,  while 


68 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


they  were  four  times  as  numerous.”  All  the  way 
from  the  church  to  the  Town  House  the  street  was 
crowded  with  the  people,  while  a committee,  headed 
by  Samuel  Adams,  waited  upon  the  governor,  and 
received  his  assurance  that  one  regiment  should 
be  removed.  As  the  committee  came  out  from  the 
Town  House,  to  carry  the  governor’s  reply  to  the 
meeting  in  the  church,  the  people  pressed  back  on 
either  side  to  let  them  pass  ; and  Adams,  leading 
the  way  with  uncovered  head  through  the  lane  thus 
formed,  and  bowing  first  to  one  side  and  then  to 
the  other,  passed  along  the  watchword,  “ Both  regi- 
ments, or  none  ! ” When,  in  the  church,  the  ques- 
tion was  put  to  vote,  three  thousand  voices  shouted, 
“ Both  regiments,  or  none  ! ” and  armed  with  this 
ultimatum  the  committee  returned  to  the  Town 
House,  where  the  governor  was  seated  with  Colo- 
nel Dalrymple  and  the  members  of  the  council. 
Then  Adams,  in  quiet  but  earnest  tones,  stretch- 
ing forth  his  arm  and  pointing  his  finger  at  Hutch- 
inson, said  that  if  as  acting  governor  of  the  prov- 
ince he  had  the  power  to  remove  one  regiment  he 
had  equally  the  power  to  remove  both,  that  the 
voice  of  three  thousand  freemen  demanded  that 
all  soldiery  be  forthwith  removed  from  the  town, 
and  that  if  he  failed  to  heed  their  just  demand,  he 
did  so  at  his  peril.  “ I observed  his  knees  to  trem- 
ble,” said  the  old  hero  afterward,  “ I saw  his  face 
grow  pale,  — and  I enjoyed  the  sight ! ” Before 
sundown  the  order  had  gone  forth  for  the  removal 
of  both  regiments  to  Castle  William,  and  not 
until  then  did  the  meeting  in  the  church  break  up. 
From  that  day  forth  the  fourteenth  and  twenty- 


THE  CRISIS.  69 

ninth  regiments  were  known  in  Parliament  as 
“ the  Sam  Adams  regiments.” 

Such  was  the  famous  Boston  Massacre.  All  the 
mildness  of  New  England  civilization  is  brought 
most  strikingly  before  us  in  that  truculent  phrase. 
The  careless  shooting  of  half  a dozen  townsmen 
is  described  by  a word  which  historians  apply  to 
such  events  as  Cawnpore  or  the  Sicilian  Vespers. 
Lord  Sherbrooke,  better  known  as  Robert  Lowe, 
declared  a few  years  ago,  in  a speech  on  the  uses 
of  a classical  education,  that  the  battle  of  Mara- 
thon was  really  of  less  account  than  a modern 
colliery  explosion,  because  only  one 
hundred  and  ninety-two  of  the  Greek 
army  lost  their  lives!  From  such  a 
point  of  view,  one  might  argue  that  the  Boston 
Massacre  was  an  event  of  far  less  importance 
than  an  ordinary  free  fight  among  Colorado  gam- 
blers. It  is  neeuless  to  say  that  this  is  not  the  his- 
torical point  of  view.  Historical  events  are  not  to 
be  measured  with  a foot-rule.  This  story  of  the 
Boston  Massacre  is  a very  trite  one,  but  it  has  its 
lessons.  It  furnishes  an  instructive  illustration  of 
the  high  state  of  civilization  reached  by  the  people 
among  whom  it  happened,  — by  the  oppressors  as 
well  as  those  whom  it  was  sought  to  oppress.  The 
quartering  of  troops  in  a peaceful  town  is  something 
that  has  in  most  ages  been  regarded  with  horror. 
Under  the  senatorial  government  of  Rome,  it  used 
to  be  said  that  the  quartering  of  troops,  even  upon 
a friendly  province  and  for  the  purpose  of  pro- 
tecting it,  was  a visitation  only  less  to  be  dreaded 
than  an  inroad  of  hostile  barbarians.  When  we 


70  THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 

reflect  that  the  British  regiments  were  encamped 
in  Boston  during  seventeen  months,  among  a popu- 
lation to  whom  they  were  thoroughly  odious,  the 
fact  that  only  half  a dozen  persons  lost  their  lives, 
while  otherwise  no  really  grave  crimes  seem  to 
have  been  committed,  is  a fact  quite  as  creditable 
to  the  discipline  of  the  soldiers  as  to  the  mod- 
eration of  the  people.  In  most  ages  and  coun- 
tries, the  shooting  of  half  a dozen  citizens  under 
such  circumstances  would  either  have  produced 
but  a slight  impression,  or,  on  the  other  hand, 
would  perhaps  have  resulted  on  the  spot  in  a 
wholesale  slaughter  of  the  offending  soldiers.  The 
fact  that  so  profound  an  impression  was  made 
in  Boston  and  throughout  the  country,  while  at 
the  same  time  the  guilty  parties  were  left  to  be 
dealt  with  in  the  ordinary  course  of  law,  is  a strik- 
ing commentary  upon  the  general  peacefulness  and 
decorum  of  American  life,  and  it  shows  how  high 
and  severe  was  the  standard  by  which  our  fore- 
fathers judged  all  lawless  proceedings.  And  here 
it  may  not  be  irrelevant  to  add  that,  throughout 
the  constitutional  struggles  which  led  to  the  Rev- 
olution, the  American  standard  of  political  right 
and  wrong  was  so  high  that  contemporary  Euro- 
pean politicians  found  it  sometimes  difficult  to  un- 
derstand it.  And  for  a like  reason,  even  the  most 
fair-minded  English  historians  sometimes  fail  to 
see  why  the  Americans  should  have  been  so  quick 
to  take  offence  at  acts  of  the  British  government 
which  doubtless  were  not  meant  to  be  oppressive. 
If  George  III.  had  been  a blood-thirsty  despot, 
like  Philip  II.  of  Spain ; if  General  Gage  had 


THE  CRISIS. 


71 


been  another  Duke  of  Alva ; if  American  citizens 
by  the  hundred  had  been  burned  alive  or  broken 
on  the  wheel  in  New  York  and  Boston ; if  whole 
towns  had  been  given  up  to  the  cruelty  and  lust 
of  a beastly  soldiery,  then  no  one  — - not  even  Dr. 
Johnson  — would  have  found  it  hard  to  under- 
stand why  the  Americans  should  have  exhibited  a 
rebellious  temper.  But  it  is  one  signal  character- 
istic of  the  progress  of  political  civilization  that 
the  part  played  by  sheer  brute  force  in  a barbarous 
age  is  fully  equalled  by  the  part  played  by  a mere 
covert  threat  of  injustice  in  a more  advanced  age. 
The  effect  which  a blow  in  the  face  would  produce 
upon  a barbarian  will  be  wrought  upon  a civilized 
man  by  an  assertion  of  some  far-reaching  legal 
principle,  which  only  in  a subtle  and  ultimate 
analysis  includes  the  possibility  of  a blow  in  the 
face.  From  this  point  of  view,  the  quickness  with 
which  such  acts  as  those  of  Charles  Townshend 
were  comprehended  in  their  remotest  bearings  is 
the  most  striking  proof  one  could  wish  of  the  high 
grade  of  political  culture  which  our  forefathers 
had  reached  through  their  system  of  perpetual 
free  discussion  in  town  meeting.  They  had,  more- 
over, reached  a point  where  any  manifestation  of 
brute  force  in  the  course  of  a political  dispute  was 
exceedingly  disgusting  and  shocking  to  them.  To 
their  minds,  the  careless  slaughter  of  six  citizens 
conveyed  as  much  meaning  as  a St.  Bartholomew 
massacre  would  have  conveyed  to  the  minds  of 
men  in  a lower  stage  of  political  development.  It 
was  not  strange,  therefore,  that  Samuel  Adams  and 
his  friends  should  have  been  ready  to  make  the 


72 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


Boston  Massacre  the  occasion  of  a moral  lesson 
to  their  contemporaries.  As  far  as  the  poor  sol- 
diers were  concerned,  the  most  significant  fact  is 
that  there  was  no  attempt  to  wreak  a paltry  ven- 
geance on  them.  Brought  to  trial  on  a charge 
of  murder,  after  a judicious  delay  of  seven  months, 
they  were  ably  defended  by  John  Adams  and 
Josiah  Quincy,  and  all  were  acquitted  save  two, 
who  were  convicted  of  manslaughter,  and  let  off 
with  slight  punishment.  There  were  some  hot- 
heads who  grumbled  at  the  verdict,  but  the  people 
of  Boston  generally  acquiesced  in  it,  as  they  showed 
by  immediately  choosing  John  Adams  for  their 
representative  in  the  assembly,  — a fact  which  Mr. 
Lecky  calls  very  remarkable.  Such  an  event  as 
the  Boston  Massacre  could  not  fail  for  a long  time 
to  point  a moral  among  a people  so  unused  to  vio- 
lence and  bloodshed.  One  of  the  earliest  of  Amer- 
ican engravers,  Paul  Revere,  published  a quaint 
coloured  engraving  of  the  scene  in  King  Street, 
which  for  a long  time  was  widely  circulated,  though 
it  has  now  become  very  scarce.  At  the  same  time, 
it  was  decided  that  the  fatal  Fifth  of  March  should 
be  solemnly  commemorated  each  year  by  an  ora- 
tion to  be  delivered  in  the  Old  South  Meeting- 
House  ; and  this  custom  was  kept  up  until  the 
recognition  'v6  American  independence  in  1783, 
when  the  day  for  the  oration  was  changed  to  the 
Fourth  of  July. 

Five  weeks  before  the  Boston  Massacre  the 
Lord  North’s  Duke  of  Grafton  had  resigned,  and 
ministry.  Lord  North  had  become  prime  minister 
of  England.  The  colonies  were  kept  under  Ilills- 


THE  CRISIS. 


73 


borough,  and  that  great  friend  of  arbitrary  gov- 
ernment, Lord  Thurlow,  as  solicitor-general,  be- 
came the  king’s  chief  legal  adviser.  George  III. 
was  now,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  his  own 
prime  minister,  and  remained  so  until  after  the 
overthrow  at  Yorktown.  The  colonial  policy  of 
the  government  soon  became  more  vexatious  than 
ever.  The  promised  repeal  of  all  the  Townshend 
acts,  except  the  act  imposing  the  tea-duty,  was 
carried  through  Parliament  in  April,  and  its  first 
effect  in  America,  as  Lord  North  had  foreseen,  was 
to  weaken  the  spirit  of  opposition,  and  to  divide 
the  more  complaisant  colonies  from  those  that  were 
most  staunch.  The  policy  of  non-importation  had 
pressed  with  special  severity  upon  the  commerce  of 
New  York,  and  the  merchants  there  complained 
that  these  fire  - eating  planters  of  Virginia  and 
farmers  of  Massachusetts  were  growing  rich  at  the 
expense  of  their  neighbours.  In  July,  The  merchant, 
the  New  York  merchants  broke  the  non-  of  New  York* 
importation  agreement,  and  sent  orders  to  England 
for  all  sorts  of  merchandise  except  tea.  Such  a 
measure,  on  the  part  of  so  great  a seaport,  virtually 
overthrew  the  non-importation  policy,  upon  which 
the  patriots  mainly  relied  to  force  the  repeal  of  the 
Tea  Act.  The  wrath  of  the  other  colonies  was  in- 
tense. At  the  Boston  town  meeting  the  letter  of 
the  New  York  merchants  was  torn  in  pieces.  In 
New  Jersey,  the  students  of  Princeton  College, 
James  Madison  being  one  of  the  number,  assembled 
on  the  green  in  their  black  gowns  and  solemnly 
burned  the  letter,  while  the  church-bells  were  tolled. 
The  offending  merchants  were  stigmatized  aa 


74  THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 

“ Revolters,”  and  in  Charleston  their  conduct  was 
vehemently  denounced.  “ You  had  better  send  us 
your  old  liberty-pole,”  said  Philadelphia  to  New 
York,  with  bitter  sarcasm,  “ for  you  clearly  have 
no  further  use  for  it.” 

This  breaking  of  the  non-importation  agreement 
by  New  York  left  no  general  issue  upon  which  the 
colonies  could  be  sure  to  unite  unless  the  ministry 
should  proceed  to  force  an  issue  upon  the  Tea  Act. 
For  the  present,  Lord  North  saw  the  advantage  he 
had  gained,  and  was  not  inclined  to  take  any  such 
step.  Nevertheless,  as  just  observed,  the  policy  of 
the  government  soon  became  more  vexatious  than 
ever.  In  the  summer  of  1770,  the  king  entered 
upon  a series  of  local  quarrels  with  the  different 
colonies,  taking  care  not  to  raise  any  general  issue. 
Royal  instructions  were  sent  over  to  the  different 
governments,  enjoining  courses  of  action  which 
were  unconstitutional  and  sure  to  offend  the  people. 

The  assemblies  were  either  dissolved,  or 

Assemblies  _> 

convened  in  convened  at  strange  places,  as  at  Beau- 
g P fort  in  South  Carolina,  more  than  sev- 
enty miles  from  the  capital,  or  at  Cambridge  in 
Massachusetts.  The  local  governments  were  as  far 
as  possible  ignored,  and  local  officers  were  ap- 
pointed, with  salaries  to  be  paid  by  the  Crown. 
In  Massachusetts,  these  officers  were  illegally  ex- 
Taxes  in  empted  from  the  payment  of  taxes.  In 
Maryland.  Maryland,  where  the  charter  had  ex- 
pressly provided  that  no  taxes  could  ever  be  levied 
by  the  British  Crown,  the  governor  was  ordered  to 
levy  taxes  indirectly  by  reviving  a law  regulat- 
ing officers  fees,  which  had  expired  by  lapse  of 


THE  CRISIS. 


75 


time.  In  North  Carolina,  excessive  fees  were  ex- 
torted, and  the  sheriffs  in  many  cases  collected 
taxes  of  which  they  rendered  no  account.  The 
upper  counties  of  both  the  Carolinas  were  peopled 
by  a hardy  set  of  small  farmers  and  herdsmen, 
Presbyterians,  of  Scotch-Irish  pedigree,  who  were 
known  by  the  name  of  “ Regulators,”  because, 
under  the  exigencies  of  their  rough  frontier  life, 
they  formed  voluntary  associations  for  the  regula- 
tion of  their  own  police  and  the  condign  punish- 
ment of  horse-thieves  and  other  criminals.  In 
1771,  the  North  Carolina  Regulators, 

’ . ’The  North 

goaded  by  repeated  acts  or  extortion  and  H^jluators »» 
of  unlawful  imprisonment,  rose  in  re- 
bellion. A fierce  battle  was  fought  at  Alamance, 
near  the  headwaters  of  the  Cape  Fear  river,  in 
Widen  the  Regulators  were  totally  defeated  by 
Governor  Tryon,  leaving  two  hundred  of  their 
number  dead  and  wounded  upon  the  field  : and  six 
of  their  leaders,  taken  prisoners,  were  summarily 
hanged  for  treason.  For  this  achievement  Tryon 
was  pronounced  the  ablest  of  the  colonial  gov- 
ernors, and  was  soon  promoted  to  the  governor- 
ship of  New  York,  where  he  left  his  name  for  a 
time  upon  the  vaguely  defined  wilderness  beyond 
Schenectady,  known  in  the  literature  of  the  Rev- 
olutionary War  as  Tryon  County.  The  barbarous 
condition  of  the  frontier  where  these  scenes  oc- 
curred, and  the  fact  that  the  militia  of  the  lower 
counties  voluntarily  assisted  the  governor  in  his 
campaign  against  the  Regulators,  deprived  these 
events  of  much  of  the  influence  they  might  other- 
wise have  had  upon  the  country ; so  that  it  is  not 


76 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


the  Cape  Fear  but  the  Concord  river  that  ordi- 
narily  occurs  to  us,  when  we  think  of  the  first  blood- 
shed in  the  Revolutionary  War. 

In  Rhode  Island,  the  eight-gun  schooner  Gaspee, 
commanded  by  Lieutenant  Duddington,  was  com- 
missioned to  enforce  the  revenue  acts  along  the 
coasts  of  Narragansett  Bay,  and  she  set  about  the 
Affair  of  the  work  with  reckless  and  indiscriminating 
Gaspee.  zeal.  “Thorough”  was  Duddington’s 
motto,  as  it  was  Lord  Strafford’s.  He  not  only 
stopped  and  searched  every  vessel  that  entered  the 
bay,  and  seized  whatever  goods  he  pleased,  whether 
there  was  any  evidence  of  their  being  contraband 
or  not,  but,  besides  this,  he  stole  the  sheep  and 
hogs  of  the  farmers  near  the  coast,  cut  down  their 
trees,  fired  upon  market-boats,  and  behaved  in  gen- 
eral with  unbearable  insolence.  In  March,  1772, 
the  people  of  Rhode  Island  complained  of  these  out- 
rages. The  matter  was  referred  to  Rear-Admiral 
Montagu,  commanding  the  little  fleet  in  Boston 
harbour.  Montagu  declared  that  the  lieutenant 
was  only  doing  his  duty,  and  threatened  the  Rhode 
Island  people  in  case  they  should  presume  to  inter- 
fere. For  three  months  longer  the  Gaspee  kept 
up  her  irritating  behaviour,  until  one  evening  in 
June,  while  chasing  a swift  American  ship,  she  ran 
aground.  The  following  night  she  was  attacked  by 
a party  of  men  in  eight  boats,  and  captured  after  a 
short  skirmish,  in  which  Duddington  was  severely 
wounded.  The  crew  was  set  on  shore,  and  the 
schooner  was  burned  to  the  water’s  edge.  This 
act  of  reprisal  was  not  relished  by  the  govern- 
ment, and  large  rewards  were  offered  for  the  arrest 


THE  CRISIS . 


77 


«f  the  men  concerned  in  it ; but  although  probably 
everybody  knew  who  they  were,  it  was  impossible 
to  obtain  any  evidence  against  them.  By  a royal 
order  in  council,  the  Rhode  Island  government 
was  commanded  to  arrest  the  offenders  and  de- 
liver them  to  Rear-Admiral  Montagu,  to  be  taken 
over  to  England  for  trial ; but  Stephen  Hopkins, 
the  venerable  chief  justice  of  Rhode  Island,  flatly 
refused  to  take  cognizance  of  any  such  arrest  if 
made  within  the  colony. 

The  black  thunder-clouds  of  war  now  gathered 
quickly.  In  August,  1772,  the  king  ventured 
upon  an  act  which  went  further  than  anything 
that  had  yet  occurred  toward  hastening  Thesalarieso£ 
on  the  crisis.  It  was  ordered  that  all  theiudges* 
the  Massachusetts  judges,  holding  their  places 
during  the  king’s  pleasure,  should  henceforth  have 
their  salaries  paid  by  the  Crown,  and  not  by  the 
colony.  This  act,  which  aimed  directly  at  the  in- 
dependence of  the  judiciary,  aroused  intense  in- 
dignation. The  people  of  Massachusetts  were 
furious,  and  Samuel  Adams  now  took  a step  which 
contributed  more  than  anything  that  had  yet  been 
done  toward  organizing  the  opposition  to  the  king 
throughout  the  whole  country.  The  idea  of  es- 
tablishing committees  of  correspondence  was  not 
wholly  new.  The  great  preacher  Jonathan  Mayhew 
had  recommended  such  a step  to  James  Otis  in 
1766,  and  he  was  led  to  it  through  his  experience 
of  church  matters.  Writing  in  haste,  on  a Sunday 
morning,  he  said,  “ To  a good  man  all  time  is  holy 
enough ; and  none  is  too  holy  to  do  good,  or  to 
think  upon  it.  Cultivating  a good  understanding 


78  THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION . 

and  hearty  friendship  between  these  colonies  ap« 

Jonathan  May  Pears  me  so  necessary  a part  of  pru« 
hew’s  sugges-  dence  and  good  policy  that  no  favoura- 
ble opportunity  for  that  purpose  should 
be  omitted.  ...  You  have  heard  of  the  commun- 
ion of  churches : . . . while  I was  thinking  of 
this  in  my  bed,  the  great  use  and  importance  of 
a communion  of  colonies  appeared  to  me  in  a 
strong  light,  which  led  me  immediately  to  set  down 
these  hints  to  transmit  to  you.”  The  plan  which 
Mayhew  had  in  mind  was  the  establishment  of  a 
regular  system  of  correspondence  whereby  the  colo- 
nies could  take  combined  action  in  defence  of  their 
liberties.  In  the  grand  crisis  of  1772,  Samuel 
Adams  saw  how  much  might  be  effected  through 
committees  of  correspondence  that  could  not  well 
be  effected  through  the  ordinary  governmental  ma- 
chinery of  the  colonies.  At  the  October  town 
meeting  in  Boston,  a committee  was  appointed  to 
ask  the  governor  whether  the  judges’  salaries  were 
to  be  paid  in  conformity  to  the  royal  order ; and 
he  was  furthermore  requested  to  convoke  the  as- 
sembly, in  order  that  the  people  might  have  a 
chance  to  express  their  views  on  so  important  a 
matter.  But  Hutchinson  told  the  committee  to 
mind  its  own  business : he  refused  to  say  what 
would  be  done  about  the  salaries,  and  denied  the 
right  of  the  town  to  petition  for  a meeting  of  the 
assembly.  Massachusetts  was  thus  virtually  with- 
out a general  government  at  a moment  when  the 
public  mind  was  agitated  by  a question  of  supreme 
importance.  Samuel  Adams  thereupon  in  town 
meeting  moved  the  appointment  of  a committee  of 


THE  CBISIS. 


7S 


correspondence,  “ to  consist  of  twenty-one  persons, 
to  state  the  rights  of  the  colonists  and  of  this  prov- 
ince in  particular,  as  men  and  Christians  and  as  sub- 
iects ; and  to  communicate  and  publish 

J * The  commit- 

the  same  to  the  several  towns  and  to  the  tees  of  corre- 

spondence  in 

world  as  the  sense  of  this  town,  with  Massachu- 

. . l e ^tta. 

the  infringements  and  violations  thereof 
that  have  been,  or  from  time  to  time  may  be, 
made.”  The  adoption  of  this  measure  at  first  ex- 
cited the  scorn  of  Hutchinson,  who  described  the 
committee  as  composed  of  u deacons,”  “ atheists,” 
and  “ black-hearted  fellows,”  whom  one  would  not 
care  to  meet  in  the  dark.  He  predicted  that  they 
would  only  make  themselves  ridiculous,  but  he 
soon  found  reason  to  change  his  mind.  The  re- 
sponse to  the  statements  of  the  Boston  committee 
was  prompt  and  unanimous,  and  before  the  end  of 
the  year  more  than  eighty  towns  had  already  or- 
ganized their  committees  of  correspondence.  Here 
was  a new  legislative  body,  springing  directly  from 
the  people,  and  competent,  as  events  soon  showed, 
to  manage  great  affairs.  Its  influence  reached 
into  every  remotest  corner  of  Massachusetts,  it 
was  always  virtually  in  session,  and  no  governor 
could  dissolve  or  prorogue  it.  Though  unknown 
to  the  law,  the  creation  of  it  involved  no  violation 
of  law.  The  right  of  the  towns  of  Massachusetts 
to  ask  one  another’s  advice  could  no  more  be  dis- 
puted than  the  right  of  the  freemen  of  any  single 
town  to  hold  a town  meeting.  The  power  thus 
created  was  omnipresent,  but  intangible.  “ This,” 
said  Daniel  Leonard,  the  great  Tory  pamphleteer, 
two  years  afterwards,  “ is  the  foulest,  subtlest,  and 


80 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


most  venomous  serpent  ever  issued  from  the  egg  of 
sedition.  It  is  the  source  of  the  rebellion.  I saw 
the  small  seed  when  it  was  planted  : it  was  a grain 
of  mustard.  I have  watched  the  plant  until  it 
has  become  a great  tree.  The  vilest  reptiles  that 
crawl  upon  the  earth  are  concealed  at  the  root ; 
the  foulest  birds  of  the  air  rest  upon  its  branches. 
I would  now  induce  you  to  go  to  work  immediately 
with  axes  and  hatchets  and  cut  it  down,  for  a 
twofold  reason,  — because  it  is  a pest  to  society, 
and  lest  it  be  felled  suddenly  by  a stronger  arm, 
and  crush  its  thousands  in  its  fall.” 

The  system  of  committees  of  correspondence 
did  indeed  grow  into  a mighty  tree ; for  it  was 

intercolonial  nothing  less  than  the  beginning  of  the 
committees  of  American  Union.  Adams  himself  by 

correspon-  J 

dence.  no  means  intended  to  confine  his  plan 

to  Massachusetts,  for  in  the  following  April  he 
wrote  to  Richard  Henry  Lee  of  Virginia  urging 
the  establishment  of  similar  committees  in  every 
colony.  But  Virginia  had  already  acted  in  the 
matter.  When  its  assembly  met  in  March,  1773, 
the  news  of  the  refusal  of  Hopkins  to  obey  the 
royal  order,  of  the  attack  upon  the  Massachusetts 
judiciary,  and  of  the  organization  of  the  com- 
mittees of  correspondence  was  the  all-exciting  sub- 
jects of  conversation.  The  motion  to  establish  a 
system  of  intercolonial  committees  of  correspon- 
dence was  made  by  the  youthful  Dabney  Carr, 
and  eloquently  supported  by  Patrick  Henry  and 
Richard  Henry  Lee.  It  was  unanimously  adopted, 
and  very  soon  several  other  colonies  elected  com- 
mittees, in  response  to  the  invitation  from  Vir- 
ginia. 


THE  CRISIS. 


81 


This  was  the  most  decided  step  toward  revolu- 
tion that  had  yet  been  taken  by  the  Americans. 
It  only  remained  for  the  various  intercolonial  com- 
mittees to  assemble  together,  and  there  would  be 
a Congress  speaking  in  the  name  of  the  continent. 
To  bring  about  such  an  act  of  union,  nothing  more 
was  needed  than  some  fresh  course  of  aggression 
on  the  part  of  the  British  government  which 
should  raise  a general  issue  in  all  the  colonies ; 
and,  with  the  rare  genius  for  blundering  which  had 
possessed  it  ever  since  the  accession  of  George  III., 
the  government  now  went  on  to  provide  such  an 
issue.  It  was  preeminently  a moment  when  the 
question  of  taxation  should  have  been  let  alone. 
Throughout  the  American  world  there  was  a strong 
feeling  of  irritation,  which  might  still  have  been 
allayed  had  the  ministry  shown  a yielding  temper. 
The  grounds  of  complaint  had  come  to  be  different 
in  the  different  colonies,  and  in  some  cases,  in 
which  we  can  clearly  see  the  good  sense  of  Lord 
North  prevailing  over  the  obstinacy  of  the  king, 
the  ministry  had  gained  a point  by  yielding.  In 
the  Rhode  Island  case,  they  had  seized  a con- 
venient opportunity  and  let  the  matter  drop,  to 
the  manifest  advantage  of  their  position. 

tut  . it  it  The  Question 

In  Massachusetts,  the  discontent  had  of  taxation 

...  . revived. 

come  to  be  alarming,  and  it  was  skil- 
fully organized.  The  assembly  had  offered  the 
judges  their  salaries  in  the  usual  form,  and  had 
threatened  to  impeach  them  if  they  should  dare 
to  accept  a penny  from  the  Crown.  The  recent 
action  of  Virginia  had  shown  that  these  two  most 
powerful  of  the  colonies  were  in  strong  sympathy 


82 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


with  one  another.  It  was  just  this  moment  that 
George  III.  chose  for  reviving  the  question  of 
taxation,  upon  which  all  the  colonies  would  be 
sure  to  act  as  a unit,  and  sure  to  withstand  him 
to  his  face.  The  duty  on  tea  had  been  retained 
simply  as  a matter  of  principle.  It  did  not  bring 
three  hundred  pounds  a year  into  the  British  ex- 
chequer. But  the  king  thought  this  a favourable 
time  for  asserting  the  obnoxious  principle  which 
the  tax  involved. 

Thus,  as  in  Mrs.  Gamp’s  case,  a teapot  became 
the  cause  or  occasion  of  a division  between  friends. 
The  measures  now  taken  by  the  government 
brought  matters  at  once  to  a crisis.  None  of  the 
colonies  would  take  tea  on  its  terms.  Lord  Hills- 
borough had  lately  been  superseded  as  colonial  sec- 
retary by  Lord  Dartmouth,  an  amiable  man  like 
the  prime  minister,  but  like  him  wholly  under  the 
influence  of  the  king.  Lord  Dartmouth’s  appoint- 
ment was  made  the  occasion  of  introducing  a series 
of  new  measures.  The  affairs  of  the  East  India 
Company  were  in  a bad  condition,  and  it  was 
thought  that  the  trouble  was  partly  due  to  the  loss 
of  the  American  trade  in  tea.  The  Americans 
would  not  buy  tea  shipped  from  England,  but  they 
smuggled  it  freely  from  Holland,  and  the  smug- 
gling could  not  be  stopped  by  mere  force.  The 
best  way  to  obviate  the  difficulty,  it  was  thought, 
would  be  to  make  English  tea  cheaper  in  America 
than  foreign  tea,  while  still  retaining  the  duty  of 
threepence  on  a pound.  If  this  could  be  achieved, 
it  was  supposed  that  the  Americans  would  be  sure 
to  buy  English  tea  by  reason  of  its  cheapness,  and 


THE  CRISIS. 


83 


would  thus  be  ensnared  into  admitting  the  princi- 
ple involved  in  the  duty.  This  ingenious  scheme 
shows  how  unable  the  king  and  his  min- 
isters  were  to  imagine  that  the  Ameri-  ingenious 
cans  could  take  a higher  view  of  the 
matter  than  that  of  pounds,  shillings,  and  pence. 
In  order  to  enable  the  East  India  Company  to  sell 
its  tea  cheap  in  America,  a drawback  was  allowed 
of  all  the  duties  which  such  tea  had  been  wont  to 
pay  on  entering  England  on  its  way  from  China. 
In  this  way,  the  Americans  would  now  find  it  ac- 
tually cheaper  to  buy  the  English  tea  with  the 
duty  on  it  than  to  smuggle  their  tea  from  Holland. 
To  this  scheme,  Lord  North  said,  it  was  of  no  use 
for  any  one  to  offer  objections,  for  the  king  would 
have  it  so.  “ The  king  meant  to  try  the  question 
with  America.’,  In  accordance  with  this  policy, 
several  ships  loaded  with  tea  set  sail  in  the  autumn 
of  1773  for  the  four  principal  ports,  Boston,  New 
York,  Philadelphia,  and  Charleston.  Agents  or 
consignees  of  the  East  India  Company  were  ap- 
pointed by  letter  to  receive  the  tea  in  these  four 
towns. 

As  soon  as  the  details  of  this  scheme  were  known 
in  America,  the  popular  wrath  was  even  greater 
than  that  which  had  been  stirred  up  by  the  Stamp 
Act,  and  the  whole  country  was  at  once  in  a blaze, 
from  Maine  to  Georgia.  Nevertheless,  only  legal 
measures  of  resistance  were  contemplated.  In 
Philadelphia,  a great  meeting  was  held  in  October 
at  the  State  House,  and  it  was  voted  that  who- 
soever should  lend  countenance  to  the  receiving 
or  unloading  of  the  tea  would  be  regarded  as  an 


84 


TUE  AMEBIC  AN  BE  VOLUTION . 


enemy  to  his  country.  The  consignees  were  thee 
requested  to  resign  their  commissions,  and  did  so. 
In  New  York  and  Charleston,  also,  the  consignees 

threw  up  their  commissions.  In  Boston, 

How  Boston  . , 

became  the  a similar  demand  was  made,  but  the 

battle-ground. 

consignees  doggedly  refused  to  resign  ; 
and  thus  the  eyes  of  the  whole  country  were  di- 
rected toward  Boston  as  the  battlefield  on  which 
the  great  issue  was  to  be  tried. 

During  the  month  of  November  many  town 
meetings  were  held  in  Faneuil  Hall.  On  the  17th, 
authentic  intelligence  was  brought  that  the  tea- 
ships  would  soon  arrive.  The  next  day,  a com- 
mittee, headed  by  Samuel  Adams,  waited  upon  the 
consignees,  and  again  asked  them  to  resign.  Upon 
their  refusal,  the  town  meeting  instantly  dissolved 
itself,  without  a word  of  comment  or  debate  ; and 
at  this  ominous  silence  the  consignees  and  the  gov- 
ernor were  filled  with  a vague  sense  of  alarm,  as 
if  some  storm  were  brewing  whereof  none  could 
foresee  the  results.  All  felt  that  the  decision  now 
rested  with  the  committees  of  correspondence. 
Four  days  afterward,  the  committees  of  Cambridge, 
Brookline,  Roxbury,  and  Dorchester  met  the  Bos- 
ton committee  at  Faneuil  Hall,  and  it  was  unani- 
The  five  towns  mously  resolved  that  on  no  account 
ask  advice.  should  the  tea  be  landed.  The  five 
towns  also  sent  a letter  to  all  the  other  towns  in 
the  colony,  saying,  “ Brethren,  we  are  reduced  to 
this  dilemma : either  to  sit  down  quiet  under  this 
and  every  other  burden  that  our  enemies  shall  see 
fit  to  lay  upon  us,  or  to  rise  up  and  resist  this  and 
every  plan  laid  for  our  destruction,  as  becomes 


THE  CRISIS. 


85 


wise  freemen.  In  this  extremity  we  earnestly  re- 
quest your  advice.”  There  was  nothing  weak  or 
doubtful  in  the  response.  From  Petersham  and 
Lenox  perched  on  their  lofty  hilltops,  from  the 
valleys  of  the  Connecticut  and  the  Merrimack, 
from  Chatham  on  the  bleak  peninsula  of  Cape 
Cod,  there  came  but  one  message,  — to  give  up 
life  and  all  that  makes  life  dear,  rather  than  sub- 
mit like  slaves  to  this  great  wrong.  Similar  words 
of  encouragement  came  from  other  colonies.  In 
Philadelphia,  at  the  news  of  the  bold  stand  Mas- 
sachusetts was  about  to  take,  the  church-bells  were 
rung,  and  there  was  general  rejoicing  about  the 
streets.  A letter  from  the  men  of  Philadelphia  to 
the  men  of  Boston  said,  “ Our  only  fear  is  lest  you 
may  shrink.  May  God  give  you  virtue  enough  to 
save  the  liberties  of  your  country.” 

On  Sunday,  the  28th,  the  Dartmouth,  first  of  the 
tea-ships,  arrived  in  the  harbour.  The  urgency 
of  the  business  in  hand  overcame  the  Sabbatarian 
scruples  of  the  people.  The  committee  of  corre- 
spondence met  at  once,  and  obtained  from  Botch, 
the  owner  of  the  vessel,  a promise  that  Arrival  of  the 
the  ship  should  not  be  entered  before  a^t^ohT8 
Tuesday.  Samuel  Adams  then  invited  South* 
the  committees  of  the  five  towns,  to  which  Charles- 
town was  now  added,  to  hold  a mass-meeting  the 
next  morning  at  Faneuil  Hall.  More  than  five 
thousand  people  assembled,  but  as  the  Cradle  of 
Liberty  could  not  hold  so  many,  the  meeting  was 
adjourned  to  the  Old  South  Meeting-House.  It 
was  voted,  without  a single  dissenting  voice,  that 
the  tea  should  be  sent  back  to  England  in  the 


86 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


ship  which  had  brought  it.  Botch  was  forbidden 
to  enter  the  ship  at  the  Custom  House,  and  Cap- 
tain Hall,  the  ship’s  master,  was  notified  that  “ it 
was  at  his  peril  if  he  suffered  any  of  the  tea 
brought  by  him  to  be  landed.”  A night-watch  of 
twenty-five  citizens  was  set  to  guard  the  vessel, 
and  so  the  meeting  adjourned  till  next  day,  when 
it  was  understood  that  the  consignees  would  be 
ready  to  make  some  proposals  in  the  matter. 
Next  day,  the  message  was  brought  from  the  con- 
signees that  it  was  out  of  their  power  to  send  back 
the  tea ; but  if  it  should  be  landed,  they  declared 
themselves  willing  to  store  it,  and  not  expose  any 
of  it  for  sale  until  word  could  be  had  from  Eng- 
land. Before  action  could  be  taken  upon  this 
message,  the  sheriff  of  Suffolk  county  entered  the 
church  and  read  a proclamation  from  the  governor, 
warning  the  people  to  disperse  and  “ surcease  all 
further  unlawful  proceedings  at  their  utmost  peril.” 
A storm  of  hisses  was  the  only  reply,  and  the  busi- 
ness of  the  meeting  went  on.  The  proposal  of  the 
consignees  was  rejected,  and  Eotch  and  Hall,  being 
present,  were  made  to  promise  that  the  tea  should 
go  back  to  England  in  the  Dartmouth,  without  be- 
ing landed  or  paying  duty.  Eesolutions  were  then 
passed,  forbidding  all  owners  or  masters  of  ships 
to  bring  any  tea  from  Great  Britain  to  any  part  of 
Massachusetts,  so  long  as  the  act  imposing  a duty 
on  it  remained  unrepealed.  Whoever  should  dis- 
regard this  injunction  would  be  treated  as  an  en- 
emy to  his  country,  his  ships  would  be  prevented 
from  landing  — by  force,  if  necessary  — and  his 
tea  would  be  sent  back  to  the  place  whence  it 


THE  CRISIS . 


87 


came.  It  was  further  voted  that  the  citizens  of 
Boston  and  the  other  towns  here  assembled  would 
see  that  these  resolutions  were  carried  into  effect, 
“ at  the  risk  of  their  lives  and  property.”  No- 
tice of  these  resolutions  was  sent  to  the  owners 
of  the  other  ships,  now  daily  expected.  And, 
to  crown  all,  a committee,  of  which  Adams  was 
chairman,  was  appointed  to  send  a printed  copy 
of  these  proceedings  to  New  York  and  Philadel- 
phia, to  every  seaport  in  Massachusetts,  and  to  the 
British  government. 

Two  or  three  days  after  this  meeting,  the  other 
two  ships  arrived,  and,  under  orders  from  the  com- 
mittee of  correspondence,  were  anchored  by  the 
side  of  the  Dartmouth,  at  Griffin’s  Wharf,  near 
the  foot  of  Pearl  Street.  A military  watch  was 
kept  at  the  wharf  day  and  night,  sentinels  were 
placed  in  the  church  belfries,  chosen  post-riders, 
with  horses  saddled  and  bridled,  were  ready  to 
alarm  the  neighbouring  towns,  beacon- 

0 The  tea-ships 

placed  under 

, guard. 

upon  every  hilltop,  and  any  attempt  to 
land  the  tea  forcibly  would  have  been  the  signal 
for  an  instant  uprising  throughout  at  least  four 
counties.  Now,  in  accordance  with  the  laws  pro- 
viding for  the  entry  and  clearance  of  shipping  at 
custom  houses,  it  was  necessary  that  every  ship 
should  land  its  cargo  within  twenty  days  from  its 
arrival.  In  case  this  was  not  done,  the  revenue 
officers  were  authorized  to  seize  the  ship  and  land 
its  cargo  themselves.  In  the  case  of  the  Dartmouth, 
the  captain  had  promised  to  take  her  back  to  Eng- 
land without  unloading ; but  still,  before  she  could 


fires  were  piled  all  ready  for  lighting 


88 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


legally  start,  she  must  obtain  a clearance  from  tho 
collector  of  customs,  or,  in  default  of  this,  a pass 
from  the  governor.  At  sunrise  of  Friday,  the  17th 
of  December,  the  twenty  days  would  have  expired. 

On  Saturday,  the  11th,  Rotch  was  summoned  be- 
fore the  committee  of  correspondence,  and  Samuel 
Adams  asked  him  why  he  had  not  kept  his  promise, 
and  started  his  ship  off  for  England.  He  sought 
to  excuse  himself  on  the  ground  that  he  had  not 
the  power  to  do  so,  whereupon  he  was  told  that  he 
must  apply  to  the  collector  for  a clearance.  Hear- 
ing of  these  things,  the  governor  gave  strict  orders 
at  the  Castle  to  fire  upon  any  vessel  trying  to  get 
out  to  sea  without  a proper  permit ; and  two 
ships  from  Montagu’s  fleet,  which  had  been  laid 
up  for  the  winter,  were  stationed  at  the  entrance 
of  the  harbour,  to  make  sure  against  the  Dart- 
mouth’s going  out.  Tuesday  came,  and  Rotch,  hav- 
ing done  nothing,  was  summoned  before  the  town 
meeting,  and  peremptorily  ordered  to  apply  for  a 
clearance.  Samuel  Adams  and  nine  other  gentle- 
men accompanied  him  to  the  Custom  House  to  wit- 
ness the  proceedings,  but  the  collector  refused  to 
give  an  answer  until  the  next  day.  The  meeting 
then  adjourned  till  Thursday,  the  last  of  the  twenty 
days.  On  Wednesday  morning,  Rotch  was  again 
escorted  to  the  Custom  House,  and  the  collector 
refused  to  give  a clearance  unless  the  tea  should 
first  be  landed. 

On  the  morning  of  Thursday,  December  16th, 
the  assembly  which  was  gathered  in  the  Old  South 
Meeting-House,  and  in  the  streets  about  it,  num- 
bered more  than  seven  thousand  people.  It  was 


THE  CRISIS . 


89 


to  be  one  of  the  most  momentous  days  in  tbe  his- 
tory of  the  world.  The  clearance  having  been  re- 
fused, nothing  now  remained  but  to  order  Rotch 
to  request  a pass  for  his  ship  from  the 

tt  i • Town  meeting 

governor.  Rut  the  wary  Hutchinson,  attheoid 
well  knowing  what  was  about  to  be  re- 
quired of  him,  had  gone  out  to  his  country  house 
at  Milton,  so  as  to  foil  the  proceedings  by  his 
absence.  But  the  meeting  was  not  to  be  so  trifled 
with.  Rotch  was  enjoined,  on  his  peril,  to  repair 
to  the  governor  at  Milton,  and  ask  for  his  pass ; 
and  while  he  was  gone,  the  meeting  considered 
what  was  to  be  done  in  case  of  a refusal.  With- 
out a pass  it  would  be  impossible  for  the  ship  to 
clear  the  harbour  under  the  guns  of  the  Castle ; 
and  by  sunrise,  next  morning,  the  revenue  officers 
would  be  empowered  to  seize  the  ship,  and  save  by 
a violent  assault  upon  them  it  would  be  impossible 
to  prevent  the  landing  of  the  tea.  “ Who  knows,” 
said  John  Rowe,  “ how  tea  will  mingle  with  salt 
water?”  And  great  applause  followed  the  sug- 
gestion. Yet  the  plan  which  was  to  serve  as  a last 
resort  had  unquestionably  been  adopted  in  secret 
committee  long  before  this.  It  appears  to  have 
been  worked  out  in  detail  in  a little  back  room  at 
the  office  of  the  “ Boston  Gazette,”  and  there  is  no 
doubt  that  Samuel  Adams,  with  some  others  of  the 
popular  leaders,  had  a share  in  devising  it.  But 
among  the  thousands  present  at  the  town  meeting, 
it  is  probable  that  very  few  knew  just  what  it  was 
designed  to  do.  At  five  in  the  afternoon,  it  was 
unanimously  voted  that,  come  what  would,  the  tea 
should  not  be  landed.  It  had  now  grown  dark, 


90 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION . 


and  the  church  was  dimly  lighted  with  candles. 
Determined  not  to  act  until  the  last  legal  method 
of  relief  should  have  been  tried  and  found  wanting, 
the  great  assembly  was  still  waiting  quietly  in  and 
about  the  church  when,  an  hour  after  nightfall, 
Rotch  returned  from  Milton  with  the  governor’s 
refusal.  Then,  amid  profound  stillness,  Samuel 
Adams  arose  and  said,  quietly  but  distinctly, 
“ This  meeting  can  do  nothing  more  to  save  the 
country.”  It  was  the  declaration  of  war  ; the  law 
had  shown  itself  unequal  to  the  occasion,  and  noth- 
ing now  remained  but  a direct  appeal  to  force. 
Scarcely  had  the  watchword  left  his  mouth  when 
a war-whoop  answered  from  outside  the  door,  and 
fifty  men  in  the  guise  of  Mohawk  Indians  passed 
quickly  by  the  entrance,  and  hastened  to  Griffin’s 

Wharf.  Before  the  nine  o’clock  bell 

TI10  tea 

thrown  into  rang,  the  three  hundred  and  forty-two 

the  harbour.  1 ® J 

chests  of  tea  laden  upon  the  three  ships 
had  been  cut  open,  and  their  contents  emptied  into 
the  sea.  Not  a person  was  harmed  ; no  other  prop- 
erty was  injured  ; and  the  vast  crowd,  looking  upon 
the  scene  from  the  wharf  in  the  clear  frosty  moon- 
light,  was  so  still  that  the  click  of  the  hatchets 
could  be  distinctly  heard.  Next  morning,  the 
salted  tea,  as  driven  by  wind  and  wave,  lay  in  long 
rows  on  Dorchester  beach,  while  Paul  Revere, 
booted  and  spurred,  was  riding  post-haste  to  Phil- 
adelphia, with  the  glorious  news  that  Boston  had 
at  last  thrown  down  the  gauntlet  for  the  king  of 
England  to  pick  up. 

This  heroic  action  of  Boston  was  greeted  with 
public  rejoicing  throughout  all  the  thirteen  col- 


THE  CRISIS. 


91 


onies,  and  the  other  principal  seaports  were  not 
slow  to  follow  the  example.  A ship  laden  with 
two  hundred  and  fifty-seven  chests  of  tea  had  ar- 
rived at  Charleston  on  the  2d  of  December ; but 
the  consignees  had  resigned,  and  after  twenty  days 
the  ship’s  cargo  was  seized  and  landed  ; and  so,  as 
there  was  no  one  to  receive  it,  or  pay  the  duty,  it 
was  thrown  into  a damp  cellar,  where  it  spoiled. 
In  Philadelphia,  on  the  25th,  a ship  arrived  with 
tea;  but  a meeting  of  five  thousand  men  forced 
the  consignees  to  resign,  and  the  captain  straight- 
way set  sail  for  England,  the  ship  having  been 
stopped  before  it  had  come  within  the  jurisdiction 
of  the  custom  house. 

In  Massachusetts,  the  exultation  knew  no  bounds. 
44  This,”  said  John  Adams,  46  is  the  most  magnifi- 
cent movement  of  all.  There  is  a dignity,  a ma- 
jesty, a sublimity,  in  this  last  effort  of  the  patriots 
that  I greatly  admire.”  Indeed,  often  as  it  has 
been  cited  and  described,  the  Boston  Tea  Party 
was  an  event  so  great  that  even  Ameri-  ^ ^ ^ 

can  historians  have  generally  failed  to  the  Boston 

, . . . mi  • • Tea  Party. 

do  it  justice.  I his  supreme  assertion 
by  a New  England  town  meeting  of  the  most  fun- 
damental principle  of  political  freedom  has  been 
curiously  misunderstood  by  British  writers,  of 
whatever  party.  The  most  recent  Tory  historian, 
Mr.  Lecky,1  speaks  of  44  the  Tea-riot  at  Boston,” 
and  characterizes  it  as  an  44  outrage.”  The  most 
recent  Liberal  historian,  Mr.  Green,  alludes  to  it 
as  44  a trivial  riot.”  Such  expressions  betray  most 

1 In  his  account  of  the  American  Revolution  Mr.  Lecky  in- 
clines to  the  Tory  side,  hut  he  is  eminently  fair  and  candid. 


92 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


profound  misapprehension  alike  of  the  significance 
of  this  noble  scene  and  of  the  political  conditions 
in  which  it  originated.  There  is  no  difficulty  in 
defining  a riot.  The  pages  of  history  teem  with 
accounts  of  popular  tumults,  wherein  passion 
breaks  loose  and  wreaks  its  fell  purpose,  unguided 
and  unrestrained  by  reason.  No  definition  could 
be  further  from  describing  the  colossal  event  which 
occurred  in  Boston  on  the  16th  of  December,  1773. 
Here  passion  was  guided  and  curbed  by  sound  rea- 
son at  every  step,  down  to  the  last  moment,  in  the 
dim  candle-light  of  the  old  church,  when  the  noble 
Puritan  statesman  quietly  told  his  hearers  that  the 
moment  for  using  force  had  at  last,  and  through 
no  fault  of  theirs,  arrived.  They  had  reached  a 
point  where  the  written  law  had  failed  them  ; and 
in  their  effort  to  defend  the  eternal  principles  of 
natural  justice,  they  were  now  most  reluctantly 
compelled  to  fall  back  upon  the  paramount  law  of 
self-preservation.  It  was  the  one  supreme  moment 
in  a controversy  supremely  important  to  mankind, 
and  in  which  the  common  sense  of  the  world  has 
since  acknowledged  that  they  were  wholly  in  the 
right.  It  was  the  one  moment  of  all  that  troubled 
time  in  which  no  compromise  was  possible.  “ Had 
the  tea  been  landed,”  says  the  contemporary  histo- 
rian Gordon,  “ the  union  of  the  colonies  in  oppos- 
ing the  ministerial  scheme  would  have  been  dis- 
solved ; and  it  would  have  been  extremely  difficult 
ever  after  to  have  restored  it.”  In  view  of  the 
stupendous  issues  at  stake,  the  patience  of  the 
men  of  Boston  was  far  more  remarkable  than  their 
boldness.  For  the  quiet  sublimity  of  reasonable 


THE  CRISIS. 


93 


but  dauntless  moral  purpose,  the  heroic  annals  of 
Greece  and  Home  can  show  us  no  greater  scene 
than  that  which  the  Old  South  Meeting-House 
witnessed  on  the  day  when  the  tea  was  destroyed. 

When  the  news  of  this  affair  reached  England, 
it  was  quite  naturally  pronounced  by 
Lord  North  a fitting  culmination  to  ment  received 
years  of  riot  and  lawlessness.  This, 
said  Lord  George  Germain,  is  what  comes  of  their 
wretched  old  town  meetings.  The  Americans  have 
really  no  government.  These  “ are  the  proceed- 
ings of  a tumultuous  and  riotous  rabble,  who  ought, 
if  they  had  the  least  prudence,  to  follow  their  mer- 
cantile employments,  and  not  trouble  themselves 
with  politics  and  government,  which  they  do  not 
understand.  Some  gentlemen  , say,  ‘ Oh,  don’t 
break  their  charter  ; don’t  take  away  rights  granted 
them  by  the  predecessors  of  the  Crown.’  Who- 
ever wishes  to  preserve  such  charters,  I wish  him 
no  worse  than  to  govern  such  subjects.”  “ These 
remarks,”  said  Lord  North,  “ are  worthy  of  a great 
mind.”  “ If  we  take  a determined  stand  now,” 
said  Lord  Mansfield,  “ Boston  will  submit,  and  all 
will  end  in  victory  without  carnage.”  “ The  town 
of  Boston,”  said  Mr.  Venn,  “ought  to  be  knocked 
about  their  ears  and  destroyed.  You  will  never 
meet  with  proper  obedience  to  the  laws  of  this 
country  until  you  have  destroyed  that  nest  of  lo- 
custs.” General  Gage,  who  had  just  come  home 
on  a visit,  assured  the  king  that  the  other  colonies 
might  speak  fair  words  to  Massachusetts,  but 
would  do  nothing  to  help  her  ; and  he  offered  with 
four  regiments  to  make  a speedy  end  of  the  whole 


94 


TIIE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


matter.  “ They  will  be  lions,”  said  Gage,  “ while 
we  are  lambs ; but  if  we  take  the  resolute  part, 
they  will  prove  very  meek,  I promise  you.”  It 
was  in  this  spirit  and  under  the  influence  of  these 
ideas  that  the  ministry  took  up  the  business  of 
dealing  with  the  refractory  colony  of  Massachu- 
setts. Lord  North  proposed  a series  of  five  meas- 
ures, which,  from  the  king’s  point  of  view,  would 
serve,  not  only  to  heal  the  wounded  pride  of  Great 
Britain,  but  also  to  prevent  any  more  riotous  out- 
breaks among  this  lawless  American  people.  Just 
at  this  moment,  the  opposition  ventured  upon  a 
bold  stroke.  Fox  said  truly  that  no  plan  for  paci- 
fying the’  colonies  would  be  worth  a rush  unless 
the  unconditional  repeal  of  the  Tea  Act  should 
form  part  of  it.  A bill  for  the  repealing  of  the 
Tea  Act  was  brought  in  by  Fuller,  and  a lively 
debate  ensued,  in  the  course  of  which  Edmund 
Burke  made  one  of  the  weightiest  speeches  ever 
heard  in  the  House  of  Commons ; setting  forth  in 
all  the  wealth  of  his  knowledge  the  extreme  danger 
of  the  course  upon  which  the  ministry  had  entered, 
and  showing  how  little  good  fruit  was  to  be  ex- 
pected from  a coercive  policy,  even  if  successful. 
Burke  was  ably  supported  by  Fox,  Conway,  Barre, 
Savile,  Dowdeswell,  Pownall,  and  Dunning.  But 
the  current  had  set  too  strongly  against  concilia- 
tion. Lord  North  sounded  the  keynote  of  the 
whole  British  policy  when  he  said,  “ To  repeal  the 
tea -duty  would  stamp  us  with  timidity.”  Come 
what  might,  it  would  never  do  for  the  Americans 
to  get  it  into  their  heads  that  the  government  was 
not  all-powerful.  They  must  be  humbled  first, 


THE  CRISIS. 


95 


that  they  might  he  reasoned  with  afterwards.  The 
tea-duty,  accordingly,  was  not  repealed,  but  Lord 
North’s  five  acts  for  the  better  regulation  of  Amer- 
ican affairs  were  all  passed  by  Parliament. 

By  the  first  act,  known  as  the  Boston  Port  Bill, 
no  ships  were  to  be  allowed  to  enter  or  The  Boston 
clear  the  port  of  Boston  until  the  rebel-  Port  BUL 
lious  town  should  have  indemnified  the  East  India 
Company  for  the  loss  of  its  tea,  and  should  other- 
wise have  made  it  appear  to  the  king  that  it  would 
hereafter  show  a spirit  of  submission.  Marble- 
head was  made  a port  of  entry  instead  of  Boston, 
and  Salem  was  made  the  seat  of  government. 

By  the  second  act,  known  as  the  Regulating  Act, 
the  charter  of  Massachusetts  was  an-  TheRegulat. 
nulled  without  preliminary  notice,  and  mg  Act* 
her  free  government  was  destroyed.  Under  the 
charter,  the  members  of  the  council  for  each  year 
were  chosen  in  a convention  consisting  of  the  coun- 
cil of  the  preceding  year  and  the  assembly.  Each 
councillor  held  office  for  a year,  and  was  paid  out 
of  an  appropriation  made  by  the  assembly.  Now, 
hereafter,  the  members  of  the  council  were  to  be 
appointed  by  the  governor  on  a royal  writ  of  man- 
damus, their  salaries  were  to  be  paid  by  the  Crown, 
and  they  could  be  removed  from  office  at  the  king’s 
pleasure.  The  governor  was  empowered  to  appoint 
all  judges  and  officers  of  courts,  and  all  such  offi- 
cers were  to  be  paid  by  the  king  and  to  hold  office 
during  his  pleasure.  The  governor  and  his  depen- 
dent council  could  appoint  sheriffs  and  remove 
them  without  assigning  any  reason,  and  these 
dependent  sheriffs  were  to  have  the  sole  right  of 


96 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


returning  juries.  But,  worse  than  all,  the  town- 
meeting system  of  local  self-government  was  ruth- 
lessly swept  away.  Town  meetings  could  indeed 
be  held  twice  a year  for  the  election  of  town  offi- 
cers, but  no  other  business  could  be  transacted  in 
them.  The  effect  of  all  these  changes  would,  of 
course,  be  to  concentrate  all  power  in  the  hands  of 
the  governor,  leaving  no  check  whatever  upon  his 
arbitrary  will.  It  would,  in  short,  transform  the 
free  commonwealth  of  Massachusetts  into  an  abso- 
lute despotism,  such  as  no  Englishman  had  ever 
lived  under  in  any  age.  And  this  tremendous  act 
was  to  go  into  operation  on  the  first  day  of  the  fol- 
lowing June. 

By  the  third  act  — a pet  measure  of  George  III., 
to  which  Lord  North  assented  with  great  reluc- 
tance — it  was  provided  that  if  any  magistrate, 
soldier,  or  revenue  officer  in  Massachusetts  should 
be  indicted  for  murder,  he  should  be  tried,  not  in 
Massachusetts,  but  in  Great  Britain.  This  meas- 
ure — though  doubtless  unintentionally  — served 
The  shooting  to  encourage  the  soldiery  in  shooting 
of  citizens.  down  peaceful  citizens,  and  it  led  by  a 
natural  sequence  to  the  bloodshed  on  Lexington 
green.  It  was  defended  on  the  ground  that  in  case 
of  any  chance  affray  between  soldiers  and  citizens, 
it  would  not  be  possible  for  the  soldiers  to  obtain  a 
fair  trial  in  Massachusetts.  Less  than  four  years 
had  elapsed  since  Preston’s  men  had  been  so  read- 
ily acquitted  of  murder  after  the  shooting  in  King 
Street,  but  such  facts  were  of  no  avail  now.  The 
momentous  bill  passed  in  the  House  of  Commons 
by  a vote  of  more  than  four  to  one,  in  spite  of  Colo* 
nel  Barre’s  ominous  warnings. 


THE  CRISIS. 


97 


By  the  fourth  act  all  legal  obstacles  to  the  quar- 
tering of  troops  in  Boston  or  any  other  town  in 
Massachusetts  were  swept  away. 

By  the  fifth  act,  known  as  the  Quebec  Act,  the 
free  exercise  of  the  Catholic  religion  was  sanc- 
tioned throughout  Canada,  — a very  The  Quebec 
judicious  measure  of  religious  toleration,  Act' 
which  concerned  the  other  colonies  but  little,  how- 
ever it  might  in  some  cases  offend  their  prejudices. 
But  this  act  went  on  to  extend  the  boundaries  of 
Canada  southward  to  the  Ohio  river,  in  defiance 
of  the  territorial  claims  of  Massachusetts,  Connect- 
icut, New  York,  and  Virginia.  This  extensive  re- 
gion, the  part  of  North  America  which  was  next 
to  be  colonized  by  men  of  English  race,  was  to  be 
governed  by  a viceroy,  with  despotic  powers ; and 
such  people  as  should  come  to  live  there  were  to 
have  neither  popular  meetings,  nor  habeas  corpus , 
nor  freedom  of  the  press.  “ This,”  said  Lord 
Thurlow,  “ is  the  only  sort  of  constitution  fit  for  a 
colony,” — and  all  the  American  colonies,  he  sig- 
nificantly added,  had  better  be  reduced  to  this 
condition  as  soon  as  possible. 

When  all  these  acts  had  been  passed,  in  April, 
1774,  General  Gage  was  commissioned  to  supersede 
Hutchinson  temporarily  as  governor  of  Massachu- 
setts, and  was  sent  over  with  as  little  Gage  sent  to 
delay  as  possible,  together  with  the  four  Boston* 
regiments  which  were  to  scare  the  people  into  sub- 
mission. On  the  first  day  of  J une,  he  was  to  close 
the  port  of  Boston  and  begin  starving  the  town 
into  good  behaviour ; he  was  to  arrest  the  leading 
patriots  and  send  them  to  England  for  trial ; and 


98 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


he  was  expressly  authorized  to  use  his  own  discre- 
tion as  to  allowing  the  soldiers  to  fire  upon  the 
people.  All  these  measures  for  enslaving  peaceful 
and  law-abiding  Englishmen  the  king  of  England 
now  contemplated,  as  he  himself  declared,  “with 
supreme  satisfaction.” 

In  recounting  such  measures  as  these,  the  histo- 
rian is  tempted  to  pause  for  a moment,  and  ask 
whether  it  could  really  have  been  an  English  gov- 
ernment that  planned  and  decreed  such  things. 
From  the  autocratic  mouth  of  an  Artaxerxes  or 
an  Abderrahman  one  would  naturally  expect  such 
edicts  to  issue.  From  the  misguided  cabinets  of 
Spain  and  France,  in  evil  times,  measures  in  spirit 
like  these  had  been  known  to  proceed.  But  Eng- 
land had  for  ages  stood  before  the  world  as  the 
staunch  defender  of  personal  liberty  and  of  local 
self-government ; and  through  the  mighty  strength 
which  this  spirit  of  freedom,  and  nothing  else,  had 
given  her,  she  had  won  the  high  privilege  of 
spreading  her  noble  and  beneficent  political  ideas 
over  the  best  part  of  the  habitable  globe.  Yet  in 
the  five  acts  of  this  political  tragedy  of  1774  we 
find  England  arrayed  in  hostility  to  every  princi- 
ple of  public  justice  which  Englishmen  had  from 
time  immemorial  held  sacred.  Upon  the  great 
continent  which  she  had  so  lately  won  from  the 
French  champions  of  despotism,  we  see  her,  in  a 
fit  of  obstinate  anger,  vainly  seeking  to  establish  a 
tyrannical  regime  no  better  than  that  which  but 
yesterday  it  had  been  her  glory  to  overthrow. 
Such  was  the  strange,  the  humiliating,  the  self- 
contradictory attitude  into  which  England  had  at 


THE  CBISIS.  99 

length  been  brought  by  the  short-sighted  Tory  pol- 
icy of  George  III. ! 

But  this  policy  was  no  less  futile  than  it  was 
unworthy  of  the  noble,  freedom  - loving  English 
people.  For  after  that  fated  1st  of  June,  the  sov- 
ereign authority  of  Great  Britain,  whether  exerted 
through  king  or  through  Parliament,  was  never 
more  to  be  recognized  by  the  men  of  Massachu* 
setts. 


CHAPTER  III. 


THE  CONTINENTAL  CONGEESS. 

The  unfortunate  measures  of  April,  1774,  were 
not  carried  through  Parliament  without  earnest 
opposition.  Lord  Rockingham  and  his  friends 
entered  a protest  on  the  journal  of  the  House  of 
Lords,  on  the  grounds  that  the  people  of  Massa- 
chusetts had  not  been  heard  in  their  own  defence, 
Protests  of  the  an(^  that  the  lives  and  liberties  of  the 
Whigs.  citizens  were  put  absolutely  into  the 
hands  of  the  governor  and  council,  who  were  thus 
invested  with  greater  powers  than  it  had  ever  been 
thought  wise  to  entrust  to  the  king  and  his  privy 
council  in  Great  Britain.  They  concluded,  there- 
fore, that  the  acts  were  unconstitutional.  The 
Duke  of  Richmond  could  not  restrain  his  burning 
indignation.  “ I wish,”  said  he  in  the  House  of 
Lords,  — u I wish  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart 
that  the  Americans  may  resist,  and  get  the  better 
of  the  forces  sent  against  them.”  But  that  the 
Americans  really  would  resist,  very  few  people  in 
England  believed.  The  conduct  of  the  ministry 
was  based  throughout  upon  the  absurd  idea  that 
the  Americans  could  be  frightened  into  submis- 
sion. General  Gage,  as  we  have  seen,  thought 
that  four  regiments  would  be  enough  to  settle 
the  whole  business.  Lord  Sandwich  said  that 


THE  CONTINENTAL  CONGRESS.  101 

the  Americans  were  a set  of  undisciplined  cow- 
ards, who  would  take  to  their  heels  at  the  Belief  that  th0 
first  sound  of  a cannon.  Even  Hutch-  ^3“ 
inson,  who  went  over  to  England  about  figllt’ 
this  time,  and  who  ought  to  have  known  of  what 
stuff  the  men  of  Massachusetts  were  made,  assured 
the  king  that  they  never  would  resist  a regular 
army.  Such  blunders,  however,  need  not  surprise 
us  when  we  recollect  how,  just  before  the  war  of 
secession,  the  people  of  the  southern  and  of  the 
northern  states  made  similar  mistakes  with  regard 
to  each  other.  In  1860,  it  was  commonly  said  by 
Southern  people  that  Northern  people  would  sub- 
mit to  anything  rather  than  fight ; and  in  support 
of  this  opinion,  it  was  sometimes  asked,  “ If  the 
Northern  people  are  not  arrant  cowards,  why  do 
they  never  have  duels?”  On  the  other  hand,  it 
was  commonly  said  at  the  North  that  the  Southern 
people,  however  bravely  they  might  bluster,  would 
never  enter  upon  a war  of  secession,  because  it 
was  really  much  more  for  their  interest  to  remain 
in  the  Federal  Union  than  to  secede  from  it,  — an 
argument  which  lost  sight  of  one  of  the  commonest 
facts  in  human  life,  that  under  the  influence  of 
strong  passion  men  are  unable  to  take  just  view* 
of  what  concerns  their  own  interests.  Such  ex> 
amples  show  how  hard  it  often  is  for  one  group  ot 
men  to  understand  another  group,  even  when  they 
are  all  of  the  same  blood  and  speech,  and  think 
alike  about  most  matters  that  do  not  touch  the 
particular  subject  in  dispute.  Nothing  could  have 
been  surer,  either  in  1860  or  1774,  than  that  the 
one  party  to  the  quarrel  was  as  bold  and  brave  as 
the  other. 


102  THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


Another  fatal  error  under  which  the  ministry 
laboured  was  the  belief  that  Massachusetts  would 

Belief  that  n°t  ^e  suPPor^ed  by  the  other  colonies. 
Massachusetts  Their  mistake  was  not  unlike  that  which 

would  not  be 

the1 other* col-  ru^ne(^  the  plans  of  Napoleon  III.,  when 
°°ies-  he  declared  war  upon  Prussia  in  1870. 

There  was  no  denying  the  fact  of  strong  jealousies 
among  the  American  colonies  in  1774,  as  there  was 
no  denying  the  fact  of  strong  jealousies  between 
the  northern  and  southern  German  states  in  1870. 
But  the  circumstances  under  which  Napoleon  III. 
made  war  on  Prussia  happened  to  be  such  as  to 
enlist  all  the  German  states  in  the  common  cause 
with  her.  And  so  it  was  with  the  war  of  George 
III.  against  Massachusetts.  As  soon  as  the  char- 
ter of  that  colony  was  annulled,  all  the  other  colo- 
nies felt  that  their  liberties  were  in  jeopardy ; and 
thence,  as  Fox  truly  said,  “ all  were  taught  to  con- 
sider the  town  of  Boston  as  suffering  in  the  com- 
mon cause.” 

News  of  the  Boston  Port  Bill  was  received  in 
America  on  the  10th  of  May.  On  the  12th  the 
committees  of  several  Massachusetts  towns  held  a 
convention  at  Faneuil  Hall,  and  adopted  a circular 
letter,  prepared  by  Samuel  Adams,  to  be  sent  to 
all  the  other  colonies,  asking  for  their  sympathy 
and  cooperation.  The  response  was  prompt  and 
emphatic.  In  the  course  of  the  summer,  conven- 
tions were  held  in  nearly  all  the  colonies,  declar- 
ing that  Boston  should  be  regarded  as 
“ suffering  in  the  common  cause.”  The 
obnoxious  acts  of  Parliament  were  printed  on 
paper  with  deep  black  borders,  and  in  some  towns 


News  of  the 
Port  Bill. 


THE  CONTINENTAL  CONGRESS.  103 

were  publicly  burned  by  the  common  hangman. 
Droves  of  cattle  and  flocks  of  sheep,  cartloads  of 
wheat  and  maize,  kitchen  vegetables  and  fruit, 
barrels  of  sugar,  quintals  of  dried  fish,  provisions 
of  every  sort,  were  sent  overland  as  free  gifts  to 
the  people  of  the  devoted  city,  even  the  distant 
rice-swamps  of  South  Carolina  contributing  their 
share.  The  over  - cautious  Franklin  had  written 
from  London,  suggesting  that  perhaps  it  might 
be  best,  after  all,  for  Massachusetts  to  indemnify 
the  East  India  Company;  but  Gadsden,  with  a 
sounder  sense  of  the  political  position,  sent  word, 
“ Don’t  pay  for  an  ounce  of  the  damned  tea.” 
Throughout  the  greater  part  of  the  country  the 
1st  of  June  was  kept  as  a day  of  fasting  and 
prayer  ; bells  were  muffled  and  tolled  in  the  prin- 
cipal churches;  ships  in  the  harbours  put  their 
flags  at  half-mast.  Marblehead,  which  was  ap- 
pointed to  supersede  Boston  as  port  of  entry,  im- 
mediately invited  the  merchants  of  Boston  to  use 
its  wharfs  and  warehouses  free  of  charge  in  ship- 
ping and  unshipping  their  goods.  A policy  of 
absolute  non-importation  was  advocated  by  many 
of  the  colonies,  though  Pennsylvania,  under  the 
influence  of  Dickinson,  still  vainly  cherishing 
hopes  of  reconciliation,  hung  back,  and  advised 
that  the  tea  should  be  paid  for.  As  usual,  the 
warmest  sympathy  with  New  England  came  from 
Virginia.  “If  need  be,”  said  Washington,  “I 
will  raise  one  thousand  men,  subsist  them  at  my 
own  expense,  and  march  myself  at  their  head  for 
the  relief  of  Boston.” 

To  insure  concerted  action  on  the  part  of  the 


104 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION . 


whole  country,  something  more  was  required  than 
these  general  expressions  and  acts  of  sympathy. 
The  proposal  for  a Continental  Congress  came 
first  from  the  Sons  of  Liberty  in  New  York ; it 
was  immediately  taken  up  by  the  members  of  the 
Virginia  legislature,  sitting  in  convention  at  the 
Raleigh  tavern,  after  the  governor  had  dissolved 
them  as  a legislature,  and  Massachusetts  was  in- 
vited to  appoint  the  time  and  place  for  the  meet- 
ing of  the  Congress.  On  the  7th  of  June  the 
Samuel  Adams  Massachusetts  assembly  was  convened 
at  Salem.  at  Salem  by  General  Gage,  in  conform- 
ity with  the  provisions  of  the  Port  Bill.  Samuel 
Adams  always  preferred  to  use  the  ordinary  means 
of  transacting  public  business  so  long  as  they 
were  of  avail,  and  he  naturally  wished  to  have  the 
act  appointing  a Continental  Congress  passed  by 
the  assembly.  But  this  was  not  easy  to  bring 
about,  for  upon  the  first  hint  that  any  such  busi- 
ness was  to  come  up  the  governor  would  instantly 
dissolve  the  assembly.  In  such  case  it  would  be 
necessary  for  the  committees  of  correspondence 
throughout  Massachusetts  to  hold  a convention 


for  the  purpose  of  appointing  the  time  and  place 
for  the  Congress  and  of  electing  delegates  to  at- 
tend it.  But  Adams  preferred  to  have  these  mat- 
ters decided  in  regular  legislative  session,  and  he 
carried  his  point.  Having  talked  privately  with 
several  of  the  members,  at  last  on  the  17th  of  June 
— a day  which  a twelvemonth  hence  was  to  be- 
come so  famous  — the  favourable  moment  came. 
Having  had  the  door  locked,  he  introduced  his 
resolves,  appointing  five  delegates  to  confer  with 


THE  CONTINENTAL  CONGRESS.  105 


duly  appointed  delegates  from  the  other  colonies, 
in  a Continental  Congress  at  Philadelphia  on  the 
1st  of  September  next.  Some  of  the  members, 
astonished  and  frightened,  sought  to  pass  out ; 
and  as  the  doorkeeper  seemed  uneasy  at  assuming 
so  much  responsibility,  Samuel  Adams  relieved 
him  of  it  by  taking  the  key  from  the  door  and 
putting  it  into  his  own  pocket,  whereupon  the  busi- 
ness of  the  assembly  went  on.  Soon  one  of  the 
Tory  members  pretended  to  be  very  sick,  and  be- 
ing allowed  to  go  out,  made  all  haste  to  Governor 
Gage,  who  instantly  drew  up  his  writ  dissolving 
the  assembly,  and  sent  his  secretary  with  it.  When 
the  secretary  got  there,  he  found  the  door  locked, 
and  as  nobody  would  let  him  in  or  pay  any  atten- 
tion to  him,  he  was  obliged  to  content  himself  with 
reading  the  .writ,  in  a loud  voice,  to  the  crowd 
which  had  assembled  on  the  stairs.  The  assembly 
meanwhile  passed  the  resolves  by  117  to  12, 
elected  Samuel  and  John  Adams,  Thomas  Cush- 
ing, and  Robert  Treat  Paine  as  delegates,  assessed 
the  towns  in  the  commonwealth  for  the  necessary 
expenses,  passed  measures  for  the  relief  of  Boston, 
and  adjourned  sine  die.  All  the  other  colonies 
except  Georgia,  in  the  course  of  the  summer,  ac- 
cepted the  invitation,  and  chose  delegates,  either 
through  their  assemblies  or  through  special  con- 
ventions. Georgia  sent  no  delegates,  but  promised 
to  adopt  any  course  of  action  that  should  be  de- 
termined upon. 

Before  the  time  appointed  for  the  Congress, 
Massachusetts  had  set  the  Regulating  Act  at  de- 
fiance. On  the  16th  of  August,  when  the  court 


106 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION . 


assembled  at  Great  Barrington,  a vast  multitude 
of  farmers  surrounded  the  court-house  and  for- 
bade the  judges  to  transact  any  business.  Two  or 
three  of  the  councillors  newly  appointed  on  the 
Massachusetts  king’s  writ  of  mandamus  yielded  in  ad- 
Reguiating0  vance  to  public  opinion,  and  refused  to 
take  their  places.  Those  who  accepted 
were  forced  to  resign.  At  Worcester  2,000  men 
assembled  on  the  common,  and  compelled  Timothy 
Paine  to  make  his  resignation  in  writing.  The 
councillor  appointed  from  Bridgewater  was  a dea- 
con ; when  he  read  the  psalm  the  congregation 
refused  to  sing.  In  Plymouth  one  of  the  most 
honoured  citizens,  George  Watson,  accepted  a place 
on  the  council ; as  he  took  his  seat  in  church  on 
the  following  Sunday,  the  people  got  up  and  began 
to  walk  out  of  the  house.  Overcome  with  shame, 
for  a moment  his  venerable  gray  head  sank  upon 
the  pew  before  him;  then  he  rose  up  and  vowed 
that  he  would  resign.  In  Boston  the  justices  and 
barristers  took  their  accustomed  places  in  the 
court-house,  but  no  one  could  be  found  to  serve 
as  juror  in  a court  that  was  illegally  constituted. 
Gage  issued  a proclamation  warning  all  persons 
against  attending  town-meeting,  but  no  one  heeded 
him,  and  town-meetings  were  more  fully  attended 
than  ever.  He  threatened  to  send  an  armed  force 
against  Worcester,  but  the  people  there  replied 
that  he  would  do  so  at  his  peril,  and  forthwith 
began  to  collect  powder  and  ball.  At  Salem 
the  people  walked  to  the  town-house  under  the 
governor’s  nose  and  in  the  very  presence  of  a line 
of  soldiers.  On  the  1st  of  September  a party 


THE  CONTINENTAL  CONGRESS.  107 


of  soldiers  seized  two  hundred  kegs  of  powder  at 
Charlestown  and  two  field-pieces  at  Cambridge, 
and  carried  them  to  Castle  William.  As  the  news 
spread  about  the  country,  rumour  added  that  the 
troops  had  fired  upon  the  people,  and  within  forty- 
eight  hours  at  least  20,000  men  were  marching  on 
Boston  but  they  turned  back  to  their  homes  on 
receiving  word  from  the  Boston  committee  that 
their  aid  was  not  yet  needed. 

During  these  stirring  events,  in  the  absence  of 
Samuel  Adams,  who  had  gone  to  attend  the  Con- 
gress /t  Philadelphia,  the  most  active  part  in  the 
direction  of  affairs  at  Boston  was  taken  by  Dr. 
Joseph  Warren.  This  gentleman  — 

. „ ..  . . . . , , John  Hancock 

one  ot  a family  which  has  produced  and  Joseph 

. . ...  Warren. 

three  very  eminent  physicians  — was 
graduated  at  Harvard  College  in  1759.  He  had 
early  attracted  the  attention  of  Samuel  Adams, 
had  come  to  be  one  of  his  dearest  friends,  and  had 
been  concerned  with  him  in  nearly  all  of  his  public 
acts  of  the  past  seven  years.  He  was  a man  of 
knightly  bravery  and  courtesy,  and  his  energy  and 
fertility  of  mind  were  equalled  only  by  his  rare 
sweetness  and  modesty.  With  Adams  and  Han- 
cock, he  was  one  of  the  great  Massachusetts  trium- 
virate of  Revolutionary  leaders.  The  accession 
of  Hancock  to  the  Revolutionary  cause  at  an  early 
period  had  been  of  great  help,  by  reason  of  his 
wealth  and  social  influence.  Hancock  was  grad- 
uated at  Harvard  College  in  1754.  He  was  a 
gentleman  of  refinement  and  grace,  but  neither  for 
grasp  of  intelligence  nor  for  strength  of  character 
can  he  be  compared  with  Adams  or  with  Warren. 


108 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


His  chief  weakness  was  personal  vanity,  but  he 
was  generous  and  loyal,  and  under  the  influence 
of  the  iron-willed  Adams  was  capable  of  good 
things.  Upon  Warren,  more  than  any  one  else, 
however,  Adams  relied  as  lieutenant,  who,  under 
any  circumstances  whatever,  would  be  sure  to 
prove  equal  to  the  occasion. 

On  the  5th  of  September  Gage  began  fortifying 
Boston  Neck,  so  as  to  close  the  only  approach  to 
the  city  by  land.  Next  day  the  county  assize  was 
to  be  held  at  Worcester;  but  5,000  armed  men, 
drawn  up  in  regular  military  array,  lined  each  side 
of  the  main  street,  and  the  unconstitutionally  ap- 
pointed judges  were  forbidden  to  take  their  seats. 
On  the  same  day  a convention  of  the  towns  of 
The  Suffolk  Suffolk  County  was  held  at  Milton,  and 
eoivesf Sept.  a series  of  resolutions,  drawn  up  by  Dr. 
6,1774.  Warren,  were  adopted  unanimously. 
The  resolutions  declared  that  a king  who  violates 
the  chartered  rights  of  his  people  forfeits  their 
allegiance  ; they  declared  the  Regulating  Act  null 
and  void,  and  ordered  all  the  officers  appointed 
under  it  to  resign  their  offices  at  once ; they  di- 
rected the  collectors  of  taxes  to  refuse  to  pay  over 
money  to  Gage’s  treasurer  ; they  advised  the  towns 
to  choose  their  own  militia  officers  ; and  they 
threatened  the  governor  that,  should  he  venture  to 
arrest  any  one  for  political  reasons,  they  would 
retaliate  by  seizing  upon  the  Crown  officers  as 
hostages.  A copy  of  these  resolutions,  which  vir- 
tually placed  Massachusetts  in  an  attitude  of  re- 
bellion, was  forwarded  to  the  Continental  Congress, 
which  enthusiastically  indorsed  them,  and  pledged 


THE  CONTINENTAL  CONGRESS.  109 

the  faith  of  all  the  other  colonies  that  they  would 
aid  Massachusetts  in  case  armed  resistance  should 
become  inevitable,  while  at  the  same  time  they 
urged  that  a policy  of  moderation  should  be  pre- 
served, and  that  Great  Britain  should  be  left  to 
fire  the  first  shot. 

On  receiving  these  instructions  from  the  Con- 
gress, the  people  of  Massachusetts  at  once  pro- 
ceeded to  organize  a provisional  government  in 
accordance  with  the  spirit  of  the  Suffolk  resolves. 
Gage  had  issued  a writ  convening  the  assembly  at 
Salem  for  the  1st  of  October,  but  before  the  day 
arrived  he  changed  his  mind,  and  prorogued  it. 
In  disregard  of  this  order,  however,  the  represen- 
tatives met  at  Salem  a week  later,  organized  them' 
selves  into  a provincial  congress,  with  pr0Vinciai 
John  Hancock  for  president,  and  ad-  Massachu” 
journed  to  Concord.  On  the  27th  they  8efct8* 
chose  a committee  of  safety,  with  Warren  for 
chairman,  and  charged  it  with  the  duty  of  collect- 
ing military  stores.  In  December  this  Congress 
dissolved  itself,  but  a new  one  assembled  at  Cam- 
bridge on  the  1st  of  February,  and  proceeded  to 
organize  the  militia  and  appoint  general  officers. 
A special  portion  of  the  militia,  known  as  “ minute- 
men,”  were  set  apart,  under  orders  to  be  ready  to 
assemble  at  a moment’s  warning ; and  the  commit- 
tee of  safety  were  directed  to  call  out  this  guard 
as  soon  as  Gage  should  venture  to  enforce  the  Reg- 
ulating Act.  Under  these  instructions  every  vil- 
lage green  in  Massachusetts  at  once  became  the 
scene  of  active  drill.  Nor  was  it  a population  un- 
used to  arms  that  thus  began  to  marshal  itself  into 


110 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


companies  and  regiments.  During  the  French 
war  one  fifth  of  all  the  able-bodied  men  of  Massa- 
chusetts had  been  in  the  field,  and  in  1757  the  pro- 
portion had  risen  to  one  third.  There  were  plenty 
of  men  who  had  learned  how  to  stand  under  fire, 
and  officers  who  had  held  command  on  hard-fought 
fields ; and  all  were  practised  marksmen.  It  is 
quite  incorrect  to  suppose  that  the  men  who  first 
repulsed  the  British  regulars  in  1775  were  a band 
of  farmers,  utterly  unused  to  fighting.  Their  lit- 
tle army  was  indeed  a militia,  but  it  was  made  up 
of  warlike  material. 

While  these  preparations  were  going  on  in  Mas- 
Meeting  of  the  sachusetts,  the  Continental  Congress  had 
congress, tal  assembled  at  Philadelphia  on  the  5th 

Sept.  5, 1774.  Q£  geptember.  Peyton  Randolph,  of 
Virginia,  was  chosen  president ; and  the  Adamses, 
the  Livingstons,  the  Rutledges,  Dickinson,  Chase, 
Pendleton,  Lee,  Henry,  and  Washington  took 
part  in  the  debates.  One  of  their  first  acts  was 
to  dispatch  Paul  Revere  to  Boston  with  their  for- 
mal approval  of  the  action  of  the  Suffolk  Conven- 
tion. After  four  weeks  of  careful  deliberation 
they  agreed  upon  a declaration  of  rights,  claiming 
for  the  American  people  “ a free  and  exclusive 
power  of  legislation  in  their  provincial  legislatures, 
where  their  rights  of  legislation  could  alone  be 
preserved  in  all  cases  of  taxation  and  internal  pol- 
ity.” This  paper  also  specified  the  rights  of  which 
they  would  not  suffer  themselves  to  be  deprived, 
and  called  for  the  repeal  of  eleven  acts  of  Parlia- 
ment by  which  these  rights  had  been  infringed. 
Besides  this,  they  formed  an  association  for  insur- 


THE  CONTINENTAL  CONGRESS.  Ill 

in g commercial  non-intercourse  with  Great  Britain, 
and  charged  the  committees  of  correspondence 
with  the  duty  of  inspecting  the  entries  at  all  cus- 
tom-houses. Addresses  were  also  prepared,  to  be 
sent  to  the  king,  to  the  people  of  Great  Britain, 
and  to  the  inhabitants  of  British  America.  The 
10th  of  May  was  appointed  for  a second  Congress, 
in  which  the  Canadian  colonies  and  the  Floridas 
were  invited  to  join ; and  on  the  26th  of  October 
the  Congress  dissolved  itself. 

The  ability  of  the  papers  prepared  by  the  first 
Continental  Congress  has  long  been  fully  admitted 
in  England  as  well  as  in  America.  Chatham  de- 
clared them  unsurpassed  by  any  state  papers  ever 
composed  in  any  age  or  country.  But  Parliament 
was  not  now  in  the  mood  for  listening  to  reason. 
Chatham,  Shelburne,  and  Camden  urged  in  vain 
that  the  vindictive  measures  of  the  last  April 
should  be  repealed  and  the  troops  withdrawn  from 
Boston.  On  the  1st  of  February,  Chatham  intro- 
duced a bill  which,  could  it  have  passed,  would  no 
doubt  have  averted  war,  even  at  the  eleventh  hour. 
Besides  repealing  its  vindictive  meas-  Debates  in 
ures,  Parliament  was  to  renounce  for-  ParhameQfc- 
ever  the  right  of  taxing  the  colonies,  while  retain- 
ing the  right  of  regulating  the  commerce  of  the 
whole  empire  ; and  the  Americans  were  to  defray 
the  expenses  of  their  own  governments  by  taxes 
voted  in  their  colonial  assemblies.  A few  weeks 
later,  in  the  House  of  Commons,  Burke  argued 
that  the  abstract  right  of  Parliament  to  tax  the  col- 
onies was  not  worth  contending  for,  and  he  urged 
that  on  large  grounds  of  expediency  it  should  be 


112 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


abandoned,  and  that  the  vindictive  acts  should  be 
repealed.  But  both  Houses,  by  large  majorities, 
refused  to  adopt  any  measures  of  conciliation,  and 
in  a solemn  joint  address  to  the  king  declared 
themselves  ready  to  support  him  to  the  end  in  the 
policy  upon  which  he  had  entered.  Massachusetts 
was  declared  to  be  in  a state  of  rebellion,  and  acts 
were  passed  closing  all  the  ports  of  New  England, 
and  prohibiting  its  fishermen  from  access  to  the 
Newfoundland  fisheries.  At  the  same  time  it  was 
voted  to  increase  the  army  at  Boston  to  10,000 
men,  and  to  supersede  Gage,  who  had  in  all  these 
months  accomplished  so  little  with  his  four  regi- 
ments. As  people  in  England  had  utterly  failed 
to  comprehend  the  magnitude  of  the  task  assigned 
to  Gage,  it  was  not  strange  that  they  should  seek 
to  account  for  his  inaction  by  doubting  his  zeal 
and  ability.  No  less  a person  than  David  Hume 
saw  fit  to  speak  of  him  as  a “ lukewarm  coward.” 
William  Howe,  member  of  Parliament  for  the 
liberal  constituency  of  Nottingham,  was  chosen  to 
supersede  him.  In  his  speeches  as  candidate  for 
wiiiiam  election  only  four  months  ago,  Howe 

Howe*  had  declared  himself  opposed  to  the 

king’s  policy,  had  asserted  that  no  army  that  Eng- 
land could  raise  would  be  able  to  subdue  the 
Americans,  and,  in  reply  to  a question,  had  prom- 
ised that  if  offered  a command  in  America  he 
would  refuse  it.  When  he  now  consented  to  take 
Gage’s  place  as  commander-in-chief,  the  people  of 
Nottingham  scolded  him  roundly  for  breaking  his 
word. 

It  would  be  unfair,  however,  to  charge  Howe 


THE  CONTINENTAL  CONGRESS . 113 


with  conscious  breach  of  faith  in  this  matter.  His 
appointment  was  itself  a curious  symptom  of  the 
element  of  vacillation  that  was  apparent  in  the 
whole  conduct  of  the  ministry,  even  when  its  atti- 
tude professed  to  be  most  obstinate  and  deter- 
mined. With  all  his  obstinacy,  the  king  did  not 
really  wish  for  war,  — much  less  did  Lord  North  ; 
and  the  reason  for  Howe’s  appointment  was  simply 
that  he  was  the  brother  to  the  Lord  Howe  who 
had  fallen  at  Ticonderoga,  and  whose  memory  was 
idolized  by  the  men  of  New  England.  Lord  North 
announced  that,  in  dealing  with  his  misguided 
American  brethren,  his  policy  would  be  always  to 
send  the  olive  branch  in  company  with  the  sword ; 
and  no  doubt  Howe  really  felt  that,  by  accepting  a 
command  offered  in  such  a spirit,  he  might  more 
efficiently  serve  the  interests  of  humanity  and  jus- 
tice than  by  leaving  it  open  for  some  one  of  cruel 
and  despotic  temper,  whose  zeal  might  outrun  even 
the  wishes  of  the  obdurate  king.  At  the  same 
time,  his  brother  Richard,  Lord  Howe,  Richard, 
a seaman  of  great  ability,  was  appointed  Lord  Howo* 
admiral  of  the  fleet  for  America,  and  was  expressly 
entrusted  with  the  power  of  offering  terms  to  the 
colonies.  Sir  Henry  Clinton  and  John  Burgoyne9 
both  of  them  in  sympathy  with  the  king’s  policy, 
were  appointed  to  accompany  Howe  as  lieutenant- 
generals. 

The  conduct  of  the  ministry,  during  this  most 
critical  and  trying  time,  showed  great  uneasiness. 
When  leave  was  asked  for  Franklin  to  present  the 
case  for  the  Continental  Congress,  and  to  defend  it 
before  the  House  of  Commons,  it  was  refused.  Yet 


114 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION 


all  through  the  winter  the  ministry  were  continu* 
ally  appealing  to  Franklin,  unofficially  and  in  pri- 
vate, in  order  to  find  out  how  the  Americans  might 
be  appeased  without  making  any  such  concessions 
as  would  hurt  the  pride  of  England.  Lord  Howe 
was  the  most  conspicuous  agent  in  these  negotia- 
tions, which  only  served  to  show,  over  and  over 
again,  how  the  main  root  of  the  trouble  was  the  in- 
capacity of  the  British  official  mind  to  understand 
the  character  of  the  American  people  and  the  new 
political  situation  created  by  the  enormous  growth 
of  the  colonies.  How  to  conciliate  the  Americans 
without  giving  up  a single  one  of  the  false  posi- 
tions which  the  king  had  taken  was  the  problem, 
and  no  wonder  that  Franklin  soon  perceived  it  to 
be  insolvable,  and  made  up  his  mind  to  go  home. 

He  had  now  stayed  in  England  for  sev- 

Franklin  re-  , , /•  i • 

turns  to  eral  years,  as  agent  tor  Fennsylvania 
and  for  Massachusetts.  He  had  shown 
himself  a consummate  diplomatist,  of  that  rare 
school  which  deceives  by  telling  unwelcome  truths, 
and  he  had  some  unpleasant  encounters  with  the 
king  and  the  king’s  friends.  Now  in  March,  1775, 
seeing  clearly  that  he  could  be  of  no  further  use  in 
averting  an  armed  struggle,  he  returned  to  Amer- 
ica. Franklin’s  return  was  not,  in  form,  like  that 
customary  withdrawal  of  an  ambassador  which  her- 
alds and  proclaims  a state  of  war.  But  practi- 
cally it  was  the  snapping  of  the  last  diplomatic 
link  between  the  colonies  and  the  mother-country. 

Still  the  ministry,  with  all  its  uneasiness,  did 
not  believe  that  war  was  close  at  hand.  It  was 
thought  that  the  middle  colonies,  and  especially 


THE  CONTINENTAL  CONGRESS.  115 


New  York,  might  be  persuaded  to  support  the  gov- 
ernment, and  that  New  England,  thus  isolated, 
would  not  venture  upon  armed  resistance  to  the 
overwhelming  power  of  Great  Britain.  The  hope 
was  not  wholly  unreasonable  ; for  the  great  middle 
colonies,  though  conspicuous  for  material  prosper- 
ity,  were  somewhat  lacking  in  force  of  political 
ideas.  In  New  York  and  Pennsylvania  the  non- 
English  population  was  relatively  far  more  con- 
siderable than  in  the  Southern  or  the  The  middle 
New  England  colonies.  A considerable  colonie8‘ 
proportion  of  the  population  had  come  from  the 
continent  of  Europe,  and  the  principles  of  con- 
stitutional government  were  not  so  thoroughly 
inwrought  into  the  innermost  minds  and  hearts 
of  the  people,  the  pulse  of  liberty  did  not  beat  so 
quickly  here,  as  in  the  purely  English  common- 
wealths of  Virginia  and  Massachusetts.  In  Penn- 
sylvania and  New  Jersey  the  Quakers  were  natu- 
rally opposed  to  a course  of  action  that  must  end  in 
war ; and  these  very  honourable  motives  certainly 
contributed  to  weaken  the  resistance  of  these  colo- 
nies to  the  measures  of  the  government.  In  New 
York  there  were  further  special  reasons  for  the  ex- 
istence of  a strong  loyalist  feeling.  The  city  of 
New  York  had  for  many  years  been  the  headquar- 
ters of  the  army  and  the  seat  of  the  principal  royal 
government  in  America.  It  was  not  a town,  like 
Boston,  governing  itself  in  town-meeting,  but  its 
municipal  affairs  were  administered  by  a mayor, 
appointed  by  the  king.  Unlike  Boston  and  Phila- 
delphia, the  interests  of  the  city  of  New  York  were 
almost  purely  commercial,  and  there  was  nothing 


116 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


to  prevent  the  little  court  circle  there  from  giving 
the  tone  to  public  opinion.  The  Episcopal  Church, 
too,  was  in  the  ascendant,  and  there  was  a not  un- 
reasonable prejudice  against  the  Puritans  of  New 
England  for  their  grim  intolerance  of  Episcopa- 
lians and  their  alleged  antipathy  to  Dutchmen. 
The  province  of  New  York,  moreover,  had  a stand- 
ing dispute  with  its  eastern  neighbours  over  the 
ownership  of  the  Green  Mountain  region.  This 
beautiful  country  had  been  settled  by  New  England 
men,  under  grants  from  the  royal  governors  of  New 
Hampshire ; but  it  was  claimed  by  the  people  of 
New  York,  and  the  controversy  sometimes  waxed 
hot  and  gave  rise  to  very  hard  feelings.  Under 
these  circumstances,  the  labours  of  the  ministry  to 
Lord  North’s  secure  this  central  colony  seemed  at 
hopes^oTsecur-  times  likely  to  be  crowned  with  success. 

ing New  York.  ^ assembly  Qf  New  York  refused  to 

adopt  the  non-importation  policy  enjoined  by  the 
Continental  Congress,  it  refused  to  print  letters  of 
the  committee  of  correspondence,  and  it  refused 
to  choose  delegates  to  the  second  Congress  which 
was  to  be  held  in  May.  The  ministry,  in  return, 
sought  to  corrupt  New  York  by  exempting  it  from 
the  commercial  restrictions  placed  upon  the  neigh- 
bouring colonies,  and  by  promising  to  confirm  its 
alleged  title  to  the  territory  of  Vermont.  All  these 
hopes  proved  fallacious,  however.  In  spite  of  ap- 
pearances, the  majority  of  the  people  of  New  York 
were  thoroughly  patriotic,  and  needed  only  an  op- 
portunity for  organization.  In  April,  under  the 
powerful  leadership  of  Philip  Schuyler  and  the 
Livingstons,  a convention  was  held,  delegates  were 


THE  CONTINENTAL  CONGRESS.  117 


chosen  to  attend  the  Congress,  and  New  York  fell 
into  line  with  the  other  colonies.  As  for  Pennsyl- 
vania, in  spite  of  its  peaceful  and  moderate  tem- 
per, it  had  never  shown  any  signs  of  willingness  to 
detach  itself  from  the  nascent  union. 

News  travelled  with  slow  pace  in  those  days,  and 
as  late  as  the  middle  of  May,  Lord  North,  confident 
of  the  success  of  his  schemes  in  New  York,  and 
unable  to  believe  that  the  yeomanry  of  Massachu- 
setts would  fight  against  regular  troops,  declared 
cheerfully  that  this  American  business  was  not  so 
alarming  as  it  seemed,  and  everything  would  no 
doubt  be  speedily  settled  without  bloodshed  ! 

Great  events  had  meanwhile  happened  in  Mas- 
sachusetts. All  through  the  winter  the  resistance 
to  General  Gage  had  been  passive,  for  the  lesson 
had  been  thoroughly  impressed  upon  the  mind  of 
every  man,  woman,  and  child  in  the  . 

■J  ’ . ’ Affairs  in 

province  that,  m order  to  make  sure  of  Massachu- 

i • setts. 

the  entire  sympathy  of  the  other  colo- 
nies, Great  Britain  must  be  allowed  to  fire  the  first 
shot.  The  Regulating  Act  had  none  the  less  been 
silently  defied,  and  nmthar  councillors  nor  judges, 
neither  sheriffs  nor  jurymen,  could  be  found  to 
serve  under  the  royal  commission.  It  is  striking 
proof  of  the  high  state  of  civilization  attained  by 
this  commonwealth  that  although  for  nine  months 
the  ordinary  functions  of  government  had  been 
suspended,  yet  the  affairs  of  every-day  life  had 
gone  on  without  friction  or  disturbance.  Not  a 
drop  of  blood  had  been  shed,  nor  had  any  one’s 
property  been  injured.  The  companies  of  yeomen 
meeting  at  eventide  to  drill  on  the  village  green, 


118 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


and  now  and  then  the  cart  laden  with  powder  and 
ball  that  dragged  slowly  over  the  steep  roads  on  its 
way  to  Concord,  were  the  only  outward  signs  of 
an  unwonted  state  of  things.  Not  so,  however,  in 
Boston.  There  the  blockade  of  the  harbour  had 
wrought  great  hardship  for  the  poorer  people. 
Business  was  seriously  interfered  with,  many  per- 
sons were  thrown  out  of  employment,  and  in  spite 
of  the  generous  promptness  with  which  provisions 
had  been  poured  in  from  all  parts  of  the  country, 
there  was  great  suffering  through  scarcity  of  fuel 
and  food.  Still  there  was  but  little  complaint  and 
no  disorder.  The  leaders  were  as  resolute  as  ever, 
and  the  people  were  as  resolute  as  their  leaders. 
As  the  5th  of  March  drew  near,  several  British 
officers  were  heard  to  declare  that  any  one  who 
should  dare  to  address  the  people  in  the  Old  South 
Church  on  this  occasion  would  surely  lose  his  life. 
As  soon  as  he  heard  of  these  threats,  Joseph  War- 
ren solicited  for  himself  the  dangerous  honour,  and 

at  the  usual  hour  delivered  a stirring 

Warren’s  ora-  . . a 

tion  at  the  oid  oration  upon  “the  baleful  influence  of 

South. 

standing  armies  in  time  of  peace.”  The 
concourse  in  the  church  was  so  great  that  when  the 
orator  arrived  every  approach  to  the  pulpit  was 
blocked  up ; and  rather  than  elbow  his  way 
through  the  crowd,  which  might  lead  to  some  dis- 
turbance, he  procured  a ladder,  and  climbed  in 
through  a large  window  at  the  back  of  the  pulpit. 
About  forty  British  officers  were  present,  some  of 
whom  sat  on  the  pulpit  steps,  and  sought  to  annoy 
the  speaker  with  groans  and  hisses,  but  everything 
passed  off  quietly. 


THE  CONTINENTAL  CONGRESS.  119 


The  boldness  of  Adams  and  Hancock  in  attend- 
ing this  meeting  was  hardly  less  admirable  than 
that  of  Warren  in  delivering  the  address.  It  was 
no  secret  that  Gage  had  been  instructed  to  watch 
his  opportunity  to  arrest  Samuel  Adams  and  “ his 
willing  and  ready  tool,”  that  “ terrible  desperado,” 
John  Hancock,  and  send  them  over  to  England  to 
be  tried  for  treason.  Here  was  an  excellent  oppor- 
tunity for  seizing  all  the  patriot  leaders  at  once ; 
and  the  meeting  itself,  moreover,  was  a town-meet- 
ing, such  as  Gage  had  come  to  Boston  expressly  to 
put  down.  Nothing  more  calmly  defiant  can  be 
imagined  than  the  conduct  of  people  and  leaders 
under  these  circumstances.  But  Gage  had  long 
since  learned  the  temper  of  the  people  so  well  that 
he  was  afraid  to  proceed  too  violently. 

J Attempt  to 

At  first  he  had  tried  to  corrupt  Samuel  corrupt  Sam- 

x uel  Adams. 

Adams  with  offers  of  place  or  pelf  ; but 
he  found,  as  Hutchinson  had  already  declared,  that 
such  was  “ the  obstinate  and  inflexible  disposition 
of  this  man  that  he  never  would  be  conciliated  by 
any  office  or  gift  whatsoever.”  The  dissolution  of 
the  assembly,  of  which  Adams  was  clerk,  had  put 
a stop  to  his  salary,  and  he  had  so  little  property 
laid  by  as  hardly  to  be  able  to  buy  bread  for  his 
family.  Under  these  circumstances,  it  occurred  to 
Gage  that  perhaps  a judicious  mixture  of  threat 
with  persuasion  might  prove  effectual.  So  he  sent 
Colonel  Fenton  with  a confidential  message  to 
Adams.  The  officer,  with  great  politeness,  began 
by  saying  that  “ an  adjustment  of  the  existing  dis- 
putes was  very  desirable ; that  he  was  authorized 
by  Governor  Gage  to  assure  him  that  he  had  been 


120 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


empowered  to  confer  upon  him  such  benefits  as 
would  be  satisfactory,  upon  the  condition  that  he 
would  engage  to  cease  in  his  opposition  to  the 
measures  of  government,  and  that  it  was  the  advice 
of  Governor  Gage  to  him  not  to  incur  the  further 
displeasure  of  his  Majesty ; that  his  conduct  had 
been  such  as  made  him  liable  to  the  penalties  of 
an  act  of  Henry  VIII.,  by  which  persons  could  be 
sent  to  England  for  trial,  and,  by  changing  his 
course,  he  would  not  only  receive  great  personal 
advantages,  but  would  thereby  make  his  peace  with 
the  king.”  Adams  listened  with  apparent  interest 
to  this  recital  until  the  messenger  had  concluded. 
Then  rising,  he  replied,  glowing  with  indignation  : 
“ Sir,  I trust  I have  long  since  made  my  peace 
with  the  King  of  kings.  No  personal  considera- 
tion shall  induce  me  to  abandon  the  righteous 
cause  of  my  country.  Tell  Governor  Gage  it  is 
the  advice  of  Samuel  Adams  to  him  no  longer  to 
insult  the  feelings  of  an  exasperated  people.” 
Toward  the  end  of  the  winter  Gage  received 

peremptory  orders  to  arrest  Adams  and 

Orders  to  ar-  - -i  t , „ , _ 

«st  Adams  Hancock,  and  send  them  to  England 

jnd  Hancock.  , ^ 

for  trial.  One  of  the  London  papers 
gayly  observed  that  in  all  probability  Temple  Bar 
will  soon  be  decorated  with  some  of  the  patriotic 
poddies  of  the  Boston  saints.”  The  provincial 
congress  met  at  Concord  on  the  2 2d  of  March,  and 
after  its  adjournment,  on  the  15th  of  April,  Adams 
and  Hancock  stayed  a few  days  at  Lexington,  at 
the  house  of  their  friend,  the  Rev.  Jonas  Clark. 
It  would  doubtless  be  easier  to  seize  them  there 
than  in  Boston,  and,  accordingly,  on  the  night  of 


THE  CONTINENTAL  CONGRESS.  121 

the  18th  Gage  dispatched  a force  of  800  troops, 
under  Lieutenant-Colonel  Smith,  to  march  to  Lex- 
ington, and,  after  seizing  the  patriot  leaders,  to 
proceed  to  Concord,  and  capture  or  destroy  the 
military  stores  which  had  for  some  time  been  col- 
lecting there.  At  ten  in  the  evening  the  troops 
were  rowed  across  Charles  river,  and  proceeded 
by  a difficult  and  unfrequented  route  through  the 
marshes  of  East  Cambridge,  until,  after  four  miles, 
they  struck  into  the  highroad  for  Lexington.  The 
greatest  possible  secrecy  was  observed,  and  strin- 
gent orders  were  given  that  no  one  should  be  al- 
lowed to  leave  Boston  that  night.  But  Warren 
divined  the  purpose  of  the  movement,  PaulRevere*s 
and  sent  out  Paul  Revere  by  way  of  ride* 
Charlestown,  and  William  Dawes  by  way  of  Rox- 
bury,  to  give  the  alarm.  At  that  time  there  was 
no  bridge  across  Charles  river  lower  than  the  one 
which  now  connects  Cambridge  with  Allston. 
Crossing  the  broad  river  in  a little  boat,  under  the 
very  guns  of  the  Somerset  man-of-war,  and  waiting 
on  the  farther  bank  until  he  learned,  from  a lan- 
tern suspended  in  the  belfry  of  the  North  Church, 
which  way  the  troops  had  gone,  Revere  took  horse 
and  galloped  over  the  Medford  road  to  Lexington, 
shouting  the  news  at  the  door  of  every  house  that 
he  passed.  Reaching  Mr.  Clark’s  a little  after 
midnight,  he  found  the  house  guarded  by  eight 
minute-men,  and  the  sergeant  warned  him  not  to 
make  a noise  and  disturb  the  inmates.  “ Noise  ! ” 
cried  Revere.  “ You  ’ll  soon  have  noise  enough  ; 
the  regulars  are  coming ! ” Hancock,  recognizing 
the  voice,  threw  up  the  window,  and  ordered  the 


122 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


guard  to  let  him  in.  On  learning  the  news,  Han- 
cock’s first  impulse  was  to  stay  and  take  command 
of  the  militia ; but  it  was  presently  agreed  that 
there  was  no  good  reason  for  his  doing  so,  and 
shortly  before  daybreak,  in  company  with  Adams, 
he  left  the  village. 

Meanwhile,  the  troops  were  marching  along  the 
main  road ; but  swift  and  silent  as  was  their  ad- 
vance, frequent  alarm-bells  and  signal-guns,  and 
lights  twinkling  on  distant  hill-tops,  showed  but 
too  plainly  that  the  secret  was  out.  Colonel  Smith 
then  sent  Major  Pitcairn  forward  with  six  com- 
panies of  light  infantry  to  make  all  possible  haste 
in  securing  the  bridges  over  Concord  river,  while 
at  the  same  time  he  prudently  sent  back  to  Boston 
for  reinforcements.  When  Pitcairn  reached  Lex- 
ington, just  as  the  rising  sun  was  casting  long 
shadows  across  the  village  green,  he  found  himself 
confronted  by  some  fifty  minute-men  under  com- 
mand of  Captain  John  Parker,  — grandfather  of 
Theodore  Parker,  — a hardy  veteran,  who,  fifteen 
Pitcaim  fires  years  before,  had  climbed  the  heights  of 
Abraham  by  the  side  of  Wolfe.  “Don’t 
19,  ms.  fire  unjess  yOU  are  f[re)j  on)”  said.  Par- 

ker ; “ but  if  they  want  a war,  it  may  as  well  begin 
here.”  “ Disperse,  ye  villains ! ” shouted  Pitcairn. 
“ Damn  you,  why  don’t  you  disperse  ? ” And  as 
they  stood  motionless  he  gave  the  order  to  fire.  As 
the  soldiers  hesitated  to  obey,  he  discharged  his 
own  pistol  and  repeated  the  order,  whereupon  a 
deadly  volley  slew  eight  of  the  minute-men  and 
wounded  ten.  At  this  moment  the  head  of  Smith’s 
ewn  column  seemed  to  have  come  into  sight,  far 


THE  CONTINENTAL  CONGRESS. 


123 


down  the  road.  The  minute-men  had  begun  to 
return  the  fire,  when  Parker,  seeing  the  folly  of 
resistance,  ordered  them  to  retire.  While  this  was 
going  on,  Adams  and  Hancock  were  walking  across 
the  fields  toward  Woburn;  and  as  the  crackle  of 
distant  musketry  reached  their  ears,  the  eager 
Adams  — his  soul  aglow  with  the  prophecy  of  the 
coming  deliverance  of  his  country  — exclaimed, 
“ Oh,  what  a glorious  morning  is  this ! ” From 
Woburn  the  two  friends  went  on  their  way  to  Phila- 
delphia, where  the  second  Continental  Congress 
was  about  to  assemble. 

Some  precious  minutes  had  been  lost  by  the 
British  at  Lexington,  and  it  soon  became  clear 
that  the  day  was  to  be  one  in  which  minutes  could 
ill  be  spared.  By  the  time  they  reached  Concord, 
about  seven  o’clock,  the  greater  part  of  the  stores 
had  been  effectually  hidden,  and  minute-men  were 
rapidly  gathering  from  all  quarters.  After  post- 
ing small  forces  to  guard  the  bridges,  the  troops 
set  fire  to  the  court-house,  cut  down  the  liberty- 
pole,  disabled  a few  cannon,  staved  in  a few  bar- 
rels of  flour,  and  hunted  unsuccessfully  for  arms 
and  ammunition,  until  an  unexpected  incident  put 
a stop  to  their  proceedings.  When  the 

. . The  troops  re- 

force  oi  minute-men,  watching  events  pulsed  at  Con- 
from  the  hill  beyond  the  river,  had  be- 
come increased  to  more  than  400,  they  suddenly 
advanced  upon  the  North  Bridge,  which  was  held 
by  200  regulars.  After  receiving  and  returning 
the  British  fire,  the  militia,  led  by  Major  But- 
trick,  charged  across  the  narrow  bridge,  overcame 
the  regulars  through  weight  and  numbers,  and 


124 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION . 


drove  them  back  into  the  village.  They  did  not 
follow  up  the  attack,  but  rested  on  their  arms, 
wondering,  perhaps,  at  what  they  had  already  ac- 
complished, while  their  numbers  were  from  mo- 
ment to  moment  increased  by  the  minute-men  from 
neighbouring  villages.  A little  before  noon,  though 
none  of  the  objects  of  the  expedition  had  been  ac- 
complished, Colonel  Smith  began  to  realize  the 
danger  of  his  position,  and  started  on  his  retreat 
to  Boston.  His  men  were  in  no  mood  for  fight. 
They  had  marched  eighteen  miles,  and  had  eaten 
little  or  nothing  for  fourteen  hours.  But  now, 
while  companies  of  militia  hovered  upon  both  their 
flanks,  every  clump  of  trees  and  every  bit  of  rising 
ground  by  the  roadside  gave  shelter  to  hostile  yeo- 
men, whose  aim  was  true  and  deadly.  Straggling 
combats  ensued  from  time  to  time,  and  the  retreat- 
ing British  left  nothing  undone  which  brave  men 
Retreating  could  do ; but  the  incessant,  galling  fire 
cued’b^Lord  at  length  threw  them  into  hopeless  con- 
Perey.  fusion.  Leaving  their  wounded  scattered 
along  the  road,  they  had  already  passed  by  the  vil- 
lage green  of  Lexington  in  disorderly  flight,  when 
they  were  saved  by  Lord  Percy,  who  had  marched 
out  through  Brookline  and  Cambridge  to  their 
assistance,  with  1,200  men  and  two  field -pieces. 
Forming  his  men  in  a hollow  square,  Percy  in- 
closed the  fugitives,  who,  in  dire  exhaustion,  threw 
themselves  upon  the  ground,  — “ their  tongues 
hanging  out  of  their  mouths,”  says  Colonel  Sted- 
man,  “ like  those  of  dogs  after  a chase.”  Many 
had  thrown  away  their  muskets,  and  Pitcairn  had 
lost  his  horse,  with  the  elegant  pistols  which  fired 


TNE  CONTINENTAL  CONGRESS.  125 


the  first  shots  of  the  War  of  Independence,  and 
which  may  be  seen  to-day,  along  with  other  tro- 
phies, in  the  town  library  of  Lexington. 

Percy’s  timely  arrival  checked  the  pursuit  for 
an  hour,  and  gave  the  starved  and  weary  men  a 
chance  for  food  and  rest.  A few  houses  were  pil- 
laged and  set  on  fire,  but  at  three  o’clock  General 
Heath  and  Dr.  Warren  arrived  on  the  scene  and 
took  command  of  the  militia,  and  the  irregular 
fight  was  renewed.  When  Percy  reached  Me- 
notomy  (now  Arlington),  seven  miles  from  Boston, 
his  passage  was  disputed  by  a fresh  force  of  militia, 
while  pursuers  pressed  hard  on  his  rear,  Retreat  con- 
and  it  was  only  after  an  obstinate  fight  Le^gton^o 
that  he  succeeded  in  forcing  his  way.  Charlestown- 
The  roadside  now  fairly  swarmed  with  marksmen, 
insomuch  that,  as  one  of  the  British  officers  ob- 
served, “ they  seemed  to  have  dropped  from  the 
clouds.”  It  became  impossible  to  keep  order  or 
to  carry  away  the  wounded ; and  when,  at  sunset, 
the  troops  entered  Charlestown,  under  the  welcome 
shelter  of  the  fleet,  it  was  upon  the  full  run.  They 
were  not  a moment  too  soon,  for  Colonel  Picker- 
ing, with  700  Essex  militia,  on  the  way  to  inter- 
cept them,  had  already  reached  Winter  Hill ; and 
had  their  road  been  blocked  by  this  fresh  force 
they  must  in  all  probability  have  surrendered. 

On  this  eventful  day  the  British  lost  273  of 
their  number,  while  the  Americans  lost  93.  The 
expedition  had  been  a failure,  the  whole  British 
force  had  barely  escaped  capture,  and  it  had  been 
shown  that  the  people  could  not  be  frightened  into 
submission.  It  had  been  shown,  too,  how  efficient 


126 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


the  town  system  of  organized  militia  might  prove 
on  a sudden  emergency.  The  most  interesting 
r-  of  the  ^ea^ure  day  is  the  rapidity  and 

country;  the  skill  with  which  the  different  bodies  of 

British  be-  . 

sieged  in  mmute-men,  marching  from  long  dis- 
tances,  were  massed  at  those  points  on 
the  road  where  they  might  most  effectually  impede 
the  British  retreat.  The  Danvers  company  marched 
sixteen  miles  in  four  hours  to  strike  Lord  Percy  at 
Menotomy.  The  list  of  killed  and  wounded  shows 
that  contingents  from  at  least  twenty-three  towns 
had  joined  in  the  fight  before  sundown.  But 
though  the  pursuit  was  then  ended,  these  men  did 
not  return  to  their  homes,  but  hour  by  hour  their 
numbers  increased.  At  noon  of  that  day  the 
alarm  had  reached  Worcester.  Early  next  morn- 
ing, Israel  Putnam  was  ploughing  a field  at  Pom- 
fret,  in  Connecticut,  when  the  news  arrived. 
Leaving  orders  for  the  militia  companies  to  follow, 
he  jumped  on  his  horse,  and,  riding  a hundred 
miles  in  eighteen  hours,  arrived  in  Cambridge  on 
the  morning  of  the  21st,  just  in  time  to  meet  John 
Stark  with  the  first  company  from  New  Hamp- 
shire. At  midday  of  the  20th  the  college  green 
at  New  Haven  swarmed  with  eager  students  and 
citizens,  and  Captain  Benedict  Arnold,  gathering 
sixty  volunteers  from  among  them,  placed  himself 
at  their  head  and  marched  for  Cambridge,  pick- 
ing up  recruits  and  allies  at  all  the  villages  on 
the  way.  And  thus,  from  every  hill  and  valley  in 
New  England,  on  they  came,  till,  by  Saturday 
night,  Gage  found  himself  besieged  in  Boston  by 
a rustic  army  of  16,000  men. 


THE  CONTINENTAL  CONGRESS.  127 


When  the  news  of  this  affair  reached  England, 
five  weeks  later,  it  was  received  at  first  with  in- 
credulity, then  with  astonishment  and  regret. 
Slight  as  the  contest  had  been,  it  remained  unde- 
niable that  British  troops  had  been  defeated  by 
what  in  England  was  regarded  as  a crowd  of 
“ peasants ; ” and  it  was  felt  besides  that  the 
chances  for  conciliation  had  now  been  seriously 
diminished.  Burke  said  that  now  that  the  Ameri- 
cans had  once  gone  so  far  as  this,  they  could  hardly 
help  going  farther  ; and  in  spite  of  the  condemna- 
tion that  had  been  lavished  upon  Gage  for  his  in- 
activity, many  people  were  now  inclined  to  find 
fault  with  him  for  having  precipitated  Effects  of  the 
a conflict  just  at  the  time  when  it  was  new8, 
hoped  that,  with  the  aid  of  the  New  York  loyalists, 
some  sort  of  accommodation  might  be  effected. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  the  news  from  Lexington 
thoroughly  disconcerted  the  loyalists  of  New  York 
for  the  moment,  and  greatly  strengthened  the  pop- 
ular party  there.  In  a manifesto  addressed  to  the 
city  of  London,  the  New  York  committee  of  corre- 
spondence deplored  the  conduct  of  Gage  as  rash 
and  violent,  and  declared  that  all  the  horrors  of 
civil  war  would  never  bring  the  Americans  to  sub- 
mit to  the  unjust  acts  of  Parliament.  When  Han- 
cock and  Adams  arrived,  on  their  way  to  the  Con- 
gress, they  were  escorted  through  the  city  with 
triumphal  honours.  In  Pennsylvania  steps  were 
immediately  taken  for  the  enlistment  and  training 
of  a colonial  militia,  and  every  colony  to  the  south 
of  it  followed  the  example.  The  Scotch -Irish 
patriots  of  Mecklenburg  county,  in  North  Carer 


128 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


lina,  ventured  upon  a measure  more  decided  than 
any  that  had  yet  been  taken  in  any  part  of  the 
Mecklenburg  country.  On  May  31st,  the  county 
«Sves,yMay3i,  committee  of  Mecklenburg  affirmed  that 
1775‘  the  joint  address  of  the  two  Houses  of 

Parliament  to  the  king,  in  February,  had  virtually 
44  annulled  and  vacated  all  civil  and  military  com- 
missions granted  by  the  Crown,  and  suspended  the 
constitutions  of  the  colonies ; ” and  that  conse- 
quently “ the  provincial  congress  of  each  province, 
under  the  direction  of  the  great  Continental  Con- 
gress, is  invested  with  all  the  legislative  and  exec- 
utive powers  within  their  respective  provinces,  and 
that  no  other  legislative  or  executive  power  does  or 
can  exist  at  this  time  in  any  of  these  colonies.,,  In 
accordance  with  this  state  of  things,  rules  were 
adopted  “ for  the  choice  of  county  officers,  to  exer- 
cise authority  by  virtue  of  this  choice  and  inde- 
pendently of  the  British  Crown,  until  Parliament 
should  resign  its  arbitrary  pretensions.”  These 
bold  resolves  were  entrusted  to  the  North  Carolina 
delegates  to  the  Continental  Congress,  but  were 
not  formally  brought  before  that  body,  as  the  dele- 
gates thought  it  best  to  wait  for  a while  longer  the 
course  of  events. 

Some  twenty  years  later  they  gave  rise  to  the 
Legend  of  the  legend  of  the  Mecklenburg  Declaration 
“ Declaration  of  Independence.  The  early  writers  of 
dence.’’)  United  States  history  passed  over  the 
proceedings  of  May  31st  in  silence,  and  presently 
•the  North  Carolina  patriots  tried  to  supply  an  ac- 
count of  them  from  memory.  Their  traditional 
account  was  not  published  until  1819,  when  it  was 


THE  CONTINENTAL  CONGRESS.  129 

found  to  contain  a spurious  document,  giving  the 
substance  of  some  of  the  foregoing  resolves,  dec- 
orated with  phrases  borrowed  from  the  great  Dec- 
laration of  Independence  of  1776.  This  document 
purported  to  have  been  drawn  up  and  signed  at 
a county  meeting  on  the  20th  of  May.  A fierce 
controversy  sprang  up  over  the  genuineness  of  the 
document,  which  was  promptly  called  in  question. 
For  a long  time  many  people  believed  in  it,  and 
were  inclined  to  charge  Jefferson  with  having 
plagiarized  from  it  in  writing  the  Declaration  of 
Independence.  But  a minute  investigation  of  all 
the  newspapers  of  May,  1775,  has  shown  that  no 
such  meeting  was  held  on  the  20th,  and  that  no 
such  document  was  made  public.  The  story  of  the 
Mecklenburg  Declaration  is  simply  a legend  based 
upon  the  distorted  recollection  of  the  real  proceed- 
ings of  May  31st. 

Meanwhile,  in  New  England,  the  warlike  feeling 
had  become  too  strong  to  be  contented  merely  with 
defensive  measures.  No  sooner  had  Benedict  Ar- 
nold reached  Cambridge  than  he  suggested  to  Dr. 
Warren  that  an  expedition  ought  to  be  sent  with- 
out delay  to  capture  Ticonderoga  and  Crown  Point. 
These  fortresses  commanded  the  northern  ap- 
proaches to  the  Hudson  river,  the  strategic  centre 
of  the  whole  country,  and  would  be  of  supreme  im- 
portance either  in  preparing  an  invasion  of  Canada 
or  in  warding  off  an  invasion  of  New  York.  Be- 
sides this,  they  contained  a vast  quan-  Benedict 

• e ...  J -1  Arnold  and 

tity  of  military  stores,  ot  which  the  Ethan  Alien, 
newly  gathered  army  stood  in  sore  need.  The  idea 
found  favour  at  once.  Arnold  received  a colonel’s 


130 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION . 


commission  from  the  Massachusetts  Congress,  and 
was  instructed  to  raise  400  men  among  the  Berk- 
shire Hills,  capture  the  fortresses,  and  superintend 
the  transfer  of  part  of  their  armament  to  Cam- 
bridge. When  Arnold  reached  the  wild  hillsides 
of  the  Hoosac  range,  he  found  that  he  had  a rival 
in  the  enterprise.  The  capture  of  Ticonderoga  had 
also  been  secretly  planned  in  Connecticut,  and  was 
entrusted  to  Ethan  Allen,  the  eccentric  but  saga- 
cious author  of  that  now-forgotten  deistical  book, 
“ The  Oracles  of  Reason.”  Allen  was  a leading 
spirit  among  the  “ Green  Mountain  Boys,”  an  as- 
sociation of  Vermont  settlers  formed  for  the  pur- 
pose of  resisting  the  jurisdiction  of  New  York,  and 
his  personal  popularity  was  great.  On  the  9th  of 
May  Arnold  overtook  Allen  and  his  men  on  their 
march  toward  Lake  Champlain,  and  claimed  the 
command  of  the  expedition  on  the  strength  of  his 
commission  from  Massachusetts;  but  the  Green 
Mountain  Boys  were  acting  partly  on  their  own 
account,  partly  under  the  direction  of  Connecticut. 
They  cared  nothing  for  the  authority  of  Massachu- 
setts, and  knew  nothing  of  Arnold  ; they  had  come 
out  to  fight  under  their  own  trusted  leader.  But 
few  of  Arnold’s  own  men  had  as  yet  assembled, 
and  his  commission  could  not  give  him  command 
of  Vermonters,  so  he  joined  the  expedition  as  a 
volunteer.  On  reaching  the  lake  that  night,  they 
found  there  were  not  nearly  enough  row-boats  to 
convey  the  men  across.  But  delay  was  not  to  be 
thought  of.  The  garrison  must  not  be  put  on  its 
guard.  Accordingly,  with  only  eighty-three  men, 
Allen  and  Arnold  crossed  the  lake  at  daybreak  of 


THE  CONTINENTAL  CONGRESS.  181 


the  10th,  and  entered  Ticonderoga  side  by  side. 
The  little  garrison,  less  than  half  as  many  in  num- 
ber, as  it  turned  out,  was  completely  surprised,  and 
the  stronghold  was  taken  without  a blow.  As  the 
commandant  jumped  out  of  bed,  half  awake,  he 
confusedly  inquired  of  Allen  by  whose  capture  of 

. , ' J Ticonderoga 

authority  he  was  acting.  “ In  the  name  ^ crown 
of  the  (jrreat  Jehovah  and  the  Conti- 
nental  Congress!  ” roared  the  bellicose  philosopher, 
and  the  commandant,  seeing  the  fort  already  taken, 
was  fain  to  acquiesce.  At  the  same  time  Crown 
Point  surrendered  to  another  famous  Green  Moun- 
tain Boy,  Seth  Warner,  and  thus  more  than  two 
hundred  cannon,  with  a large  supply  of  powder  and 
ball,  were  obtained  for  the  New  England  army.  A 
few  days  later,  as  some  of  Arnold’s  own  men  ar« 
rived  from  Berkshire,  he  sailed  down  Lake  Charm 
plain,  and  captured  St.  John’s  with  its  garrison  ; 
but  the  British  recovered  it  in  the  course  of  the 
summer,  and  planted  such  a force  there  that  in  the 
autumn  we  shall  see  it  able  to  sustain  a siege  of 
fifty  days. 

Neither  Connecticut  nor  Massachusetts  had  any 
authority  over  these  posts  save  through  right  of 
conquest.  As  it  was  Connecticut  that  had  set 
Allen’s  expedition  on  foot,  Massachusetts  yielded 
the  point  as  to  the  disposal  of  the  fortresses  and 
their  garrisons.  Dr.  Warren  urged  the  Connec- 
ticut government  to  appoint  Arnold  to  the  com- 
mand, so  that  his  commission  might  be  held  of 
both  colonies  ; but  Connecticut  preferred  to  retain 
Allen,  and  in  July  Arnold  returned  to  Cambridge 
to  mature  his  remarkable  plan  for  invading  Cam 


182 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION . 


ada  through  the  trackless  wilderness  of  Maine. 
His  slight  disagreement  with  Allen  bore  evil  fruit. 
As  is  often  the  case  in  such  affairs,  the  men  were 
more  zealous  than  their  commanders  ; there  were 
those  who  denounced  Arnold  as  an  interloper,  and 
he  was  destined  to  hear  from  them  again  and 
again. 

On  the  same  day  on  which  Ticonderoga  sur- 
rendered, the  Continental  Congress  met  at  Phil- 
adelphia. The  Adamses  and  the  Liv- 

Second  meet-  . _ TT  __r  . 

ing  of  the  con-  mgstons,  J ay,  Henry,  W ashmgton,  and 
press,  May  io,  Lee  were  there,  as  also  Franklin,  just 
back  from  his  long  service  in  England. 
Of  all  the  number,  John  Adams  and  Franklin 
had  now,  probably,  come  to  agree  with  Samuel 
Adams  that  a political  separation  from  Great  Brit- 
ain was  inevitable ; but  all  were  fully  agreed  that 
any  consideration  of  such  a question  was  at  present 
premature  and  uncalled  for.  The  Congress  was 
a body  which  wielded  no  technical  legal  author- 
ity ; it  was  but  a group  of  committees,  assembled 
for  the  purpose  of  advising  with  each  other  regard- 
ing the  public  weal.  Yet  something  very  like  a 
state  of  war  existed  in  a part  of  the  country, 
under  conditions  which  intimately  concerned  the 
whole,  and  in  the  absence  of  any  formally  con- 
stituted government  something  must  be  done  to 
provide  for  such  a crisis.  The  spirit  of  the  as- 
sembly was  well  shown  in  its  choice  of  a president. 
Peyton  Randolph  being  called  back  to  Virginia  to 
preside  over  the  colonial  assembly,  Thomas  Jeffer- 
son was  sent  to  the  Congress  in  his  stead ; and  it 
also  became  necessary  for  Congress  to  choose  a 


TEE  CONTINENTAL  CONGRESS.  133 

president  to  succeed  him.  The  proscribed  John 
Hancock  was  at  once  chosen,  and  Benjamin  Harri- 
son, in  conducting  him  to  the  chair,  said,  “We 
will  show  Great  Britain  how  much  we  value  her 
proscriptions.”  To  the  garrisoning  of  Ticonderoga 
and  Crown  Point  by  Connecticut,  the  Congress 
consented  only  after  much  hesitation,  since  the 
capture  of  these  posts  had  been  an  act  of  offensive 
warfare.  But  without  any  serious  opposition,  in 
the  name  of  the  “ United  Colonies,”  the  Congress 
adopted  the  army  of  New  England  men  besieging 
Boston  as  the  “ Continental  Army,”  and  proceeded 
to  appoint  a commander-in-chief  to  direct  its  opera- 
tions. Practically,  this  was  the  most  important 
step  taken  in  the  whole  course  of  the  W ar  of  Inde- 
pendence, and  the  wisdom  shown  in  the  appoint- 
ment was  consummate.  Nothing  less,  indeed,  than 
the  whole  issue  of  the  struggle,  for  ultimate  defeat 
or  for  ultimate  victory,  turned  upon  the 
selection  to  be  made  at  this  crisis.  For  ofPwashSgton 
nothing  can  be  clearer  than  that  m any  the  continen- 
other  hands  than  those  of  George  W ash-  army* 

ington  the  military  result  of  the  war  must  have 
been  speedily  disastrous  to  the  Americans.  In  ap- 
pointing a Virginian  to  the  command  of  a New 
England  army,  the  Congress  showed  rare  wisdom. 
It  would  well  have  accorded  with  local  prejudices 
had  a New  England  general  been  appointed. 
Johxu.Hancock  greatly  desired  the  appointment, 
and  seems  to  have  been  chagrined  at  not  receiving 
it.  But  it  was  wisely  decided  that  the  common 
interest  of  all  Americans  could  in  no  way  be  more 
thoroughly  engaged  in  the  war  than  by  putting 


134 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION . 


the  New  England  army  in  charge  of  a general 
who  represented  in  his  own  person  the  greatest  of 
the  Southern  colonies.  Washington  was  now  com- 
mander of  the  local  militia  of  Virginia,  and  sat  in 
Congress  in  his  colonel’s  uniform.  His  services 
in  saving  the  remnant  of  Braddock’s  ill-fated 
army,  and  afterwards  in  the  capture  of  Fort 
Duquesne,  had  won  for  him  a military  reputation 
greater  than  that  of  any  other  American.  Besides 
this,  there  was  that  which,  from  his  early  youth, 
had  made  it  seem  right  to  entrust  him  with  com- 
missions of  extraordinary  importance.  Nothing 
in  Washington’s  whole  career  is  more  remarkable 
than  the  fact  that  when  a mere  boy  of  twenty-one 
he  should  have  been  selected  by  the  governor  of 
Virginia  to  take  charge  of  that  most  delicate  and 
dangerous  diplomatic  mission  to  the  Indian  chiefs 
and  the  French  commander  at  Venango.  Con- 
summate knowledge  of  human  nature  as  well  as  of 
wood-craft,  a courage  that  no  threats  could  daunt 
and  a clear  intelligence  that  no  treachery  could 
hoodwink,  were  the  qualities  absolutely  demanded 
by  such  an  undertaking;  yet  the  young  man  ac- 
quitted himself  of  his  perilous  task  not  merely 
with  credit,  but  with  splendour.  As  regards  book- 
lore,  his  education  had  been  but  meagre,  yet  he 
possessed  in  the  very  highest  degree  the  rare  fac- 
ulty of  always  discerning  the  essential  facts  in 
every  case,  and  interpreting  them  correctly.  In 
the  Continental  Congress  there  sat  many  who  were 
superior  to  him  in  learning  and  eloquence ; but 
“ if,”  said  Patrick  Henry,  “ you  speak  of  solid  in- 
formation and  sound  judgment,  Colonel  Washing- 


THE  CONTINENTAL  CONGRESS.  135 


ton  is  unquestionably  the  greatest  man  upon  that 
floor.’’  Thus  did  that  wonderful  balance  of  mind 
— so  great  that  in  his  whole  career  it  would  be 
hard  to  point  out  a single  mistake  — already  im- 
press his  ablest  contemporaries.  Hand  in  hand 
with  this  rare  soundness  of  judgment  there  went 
a completeness  of  moral  self-control,  which  was 
all  the  more  impressive  inasmuch  as  Washington’s 
was  by  no  means  a tame  or  commonplace  nature, 
such  as  ordinary  power  of  will  would  suffice  to 
guide.  He  was  a man  of  intense  and  fiery  pas- 
sions. His  anger,  when  once  aroused,  had  in  it 
something  so  terrible  that  strong  men  were  cowed 
by  it  like  frightened  children.  This  prodigious 
animal  nature  was  habitually  curbed  by  a will  of 
iron,  and  held  in  the  service  of  a sweet  and  tender 
soul,  into  which  no  mean  or  unworthy  thought 
had  ever  entered.  Whole-souled  devotion  to  pub- 
lic duty,  an  incorruptible  integrity  which  no  ap- 
peal to  ambition  or  vanity  could  for  a moment 
solicit,  — these  were  attributes  of  Washington,  as 
well  marked  as  his  clearness  of  mind  and  his 
strength  of  purpose.  And  it  was  in  no  unworthy 
temple  that  Nature  had  enshrined  this  great  spirit. 
His  lofty  stature  (exceeding  six  feet),  his  grave 
and  handsome  face,  his  noble  bearing  and  courtly 
grace  of  manner,  all  proclaimed  in  Washington  a 
king  of  men. 

The  choice  of  Washington  for  commander-in- 
chief was  suggested  and  strongly  urged  by  John 
Adams,  and  when,  on  the  15th  of  June,  the  nomi- 
nation was  formally  made  by  Thomas  Johnson  of 
Maryland,  it  was  unanimously  confirmed.  Then 


136 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


Washington,  rising,  said  with  great  earnestness: 
“ Since  the  Congress  desire,  I will  enter  upon  the 
momentous  duty,  and  exert  every  power  I possess 
in  their  service  and  for  the  support  of  the  glorious 
cause.  But  I beg  it  may  be  remembered  by  every 
gentleman  in  the  room  that  I this  day  declare, 
with  the  utmost  sincerity,  I do  not  think  myself 
equal  to  the  command  I am  honoured  with.”  He 
refused  to  take  any  pay  for  his  services,  but  said 
he  would  keep  an  accurate  account  of  his  personal 
expenses,  which  Congress  might  reimburse,  should 
it  see  fit,  after  the  close  of  the  war. 

While  these  things  were  going  on  at  Philadel- 
phia, the  army  of  New  England  men  about  Boston 
siege  of  Boa-  was  busily  pressing,  to  the  best  of  its 
ton*  limited  ability,  the  siege  of  that  town. 

The  army  extended  in  a great  semicircle  of  sixteen 
miles,  — averaging  about  a thousand  men  to  the 
mile,  — all  the  way  from  J amaica  Plain  to  Charles- 
town Neck.  The  headquarters  were  at  Cambridge, 
where  some  of  the  university  buildings  were  used 
for  barracks,  and  the  chief  command  had  been 
entrusted  to  General  Artemas  Ward,  under  the 
direction  of  the  committee  of  safety.  Dr.  Warren 
had  succeeded  Hancock  as  president  of  the  provin- 
cial congress,  which  was  in  session  at  Watertown. 
The  army  was  excellent  in  spirit,  but  poorly 
equipped  and  extremely  deficient  in  discipline. 
Its  military  object  was  to  compel  the  British  troops 
to  evacuate  Boston  and  take  to  their  ships  ; for  as 
there  was  no  American  fleet,  anything  like  the  de- 
struction or  capture  of  the  British  force  was  mani- 
festly impossible.  The  only  way  in  which  Boston 


THE  CONTINENTAL  CONGRESS.  137 


could  be  made  untenable  for  the  British  was  by 
seizing  and  fortifying  some  of  the  neighbouring 
hills  which  commanded  the  town,  of  which  the 
most  important  were  those  in  Charlestown  on  the 
north  and  in  Dorchester  on  the  southeast.  To 
secure  these  hills  was  indispensable  to  Gage,  if  he 
was  to  keep  his  foothold  in  Boston  ; and  as  soon 
as  Howe,  Clinton,  and  Burgoyne  arrived,  on  the 
25th  of  May,  with  reinforcements  which  raised  the 
British  force  to  10,000  men,  a plan  was  laid  for 
extending  the  lines  so  as  to  cover  both  Charles- 
town and  Dorchester.  Feeling  now  confident  of 
victory,  Gage  issued  a proclamation  on  Gage,s  procla. 
June  12th,  offering  free  pardon  to  all  matl0n- 
rebels  who  should  lay  down  their  arms  and  return 
to  their  allegiance,  saving  only  those  ringleaders, 
John  Hancock  and  Samuel  Adams,  whose  crimes 
had  been  “ too  flagitious  to  be  condoned.”  At  the 
same  time,  all  who  should  be  taken  in  arms  were 
threatened  with  the  gallows.  In  reply  to  this 
manifesto,  the  committee  of  safety,  having  re- 
ceived intelligence  of  Gage’s  scheme,  ordered  out 
a force  of  1,200  men,  to  forestall  the  governor,  and 
take  possession  of  Bunker  Hill  in  Charlestown. 
At  sunset  of  the  16th  this  brigade  was  paraded  on 
Cambridge  Common,  and  after  prayer  had  been 
offered  by  Dr.  Langdon,  president  of  the  univer- 
sity, they  set  out  on  their  enterprise,  under  com- 
mand of  Colonel  Prescott  of  Pepperell,  a veteran 
of  the  French  war,  grandfather  of  one  of  the  most 
eminent  of  American  historians.  On  reaching 
the  grounds,  a consultation  was  held,  and  it  was 
decided,  in  accordance  with  the  general  purpose, 


138 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION . 


if  not  in  strict  conformity  to  the  letter  of  the  or- 
der, to  push  on  farther  and  fortify  the  eminence 
known  as  Breed’s  Hill,  which  was  connected  by  a 
ridge  with  Bunker  Hill,  and  might  be 

Americans  oc-  ° 0 

cupy  Bunker  regarded  as  part  of  the  same  locality. 

The  position  of  Breed’s  Hill  was  admi- 
rably fitted  for  annoying  the  town  and  the  ships  in 
the  harbour,  and  it  was  believed  that,  should  the 
Americans  succeed  in  planting  batteries  there,  the 
British  would  be  obliged  to  retire  from  Boston. 
There  can  be  little  doubt,  however,  that  in  thus 
departing  from  the  strict  letter  of  his  orders  Pres- 
cott made  a mistake,  which  might  have  proved 
fatal,  had  not  the  enemy  blundered  still  more  seri- 
ously. The  advanced  position  on  Breed’s  Hill 
was  not  only  exposed  to  attacks  in  the  rear  from 
an  enemy  who  commanded  the  water,  but  the  line 
of  retreat  was  ill  secured,  and,  by  seizing  upon 
Charlestown  Neck,  it  would  have  been  easy  for  the 
British,  with  little  or  no  loss,  to  have  compelled 
Prescott  to  surrender.  Prom  such  a disaster  the 
Americans  were  saved  by  the  stupid  contempt 
which  the  enemy  felt  for  them. 

Reaching  Breed’s  Hill  about  midnight,  Colonel 
Prescott’s  men  began  throwing  up  intrenchments. 
At  daybreak  they  were  discovered  by  the  sailors 
in  the  harbour,  and  a lively  cannonade  was  kept  up 
through  the  forenoon  by  the  enemy’s  ships;  but 
it  produced  little  effect,  and  the  strength  of  the 
American  works  increased  visibly  hour  by  hour. 
It  was  a beautiful  summer  day,  bathed  in  bright- 
est sunshine,  and  through  the  clear  dry  air  every 
movement  of  the  spadesmen  on  the  liill-top  and 


THE  CONTINENTAL  CONGRESS.  139 


the  sailors  on  their  decks  could  be  distinctly  seen 
from  a great  distance.  The  roar  of  the  cannon 
had  called  out  everybody,  far  and  near,  to  see 
what  was  going  on,  and  the  windows  and  house* 
tops  in  Boston  were  crowded  with  anxious  specta- 
tors. During  the  night  General  Put-  . . 
nam  had  come  upon  the  scene,  and  Putnam, 

A ' Stark,  and 

turned  his  attention  to  fortifying  the  barren,  Juno 
crest  of  Bunker  Hill,  in  order  to  secure 
the  line  of  retreat  across  Charlestown  Neck.  In 
the  course  of  the  forenoon  Colonel  Stark  arrived 
with  reinforcements,  which  were  posted  behind 
the  rail  fence  on  the  extreme  left,  to  ward  off  any 
attempt  of  the  British  to  turn  their  flank  by  a di- 
rect attack.  At  the  same  time,  Dr.  Warren,  now 
chief  executive  officer  of  Massachusetts,  and  just 
appointed  major-general,  hastened  to  the  battle- 
field ; replying  to  the  prudent  and  affectionate 
remonstrance  of  his  friend  Elbridge  Gerry,  “ Dulce 
et  decorum  est  pro  patria  mori.”  Arriving  at  the 
redoubt,  he  refused  the  command  expressly  ten- 
dered him,  saying  that  he  should  be  only  too  glad 
to  serve  as  volunteer  aid,  and  learn  his  first  lesson 
under  so  well  tried  a soldier  as  Prescott.  This 
modest  heroism  was  typical  of  that  memorable  day, 
to  the  events  of  which  one  may  well  apply  the 
Frenchman’s  dictum,  “ C’est  magnifique,  mais  ce 
n’est  pas  la  guerre ! ” A glorious  day  it  was  in 
history,  but  characterized,  on  both  the  British  and 
the  American  sides,  by  heroism  rather  than  by 
military  skill  or  prudence. 

During  the  forenoon  Gage  was  earnestly  dis- 
cussing with  the  three  new  generals  the  best  means 


140 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


of  ousting  the  Americans  from  their  position  on 
Breed’s  Hill.  There  was  one  sure  and  obvious 
method,  — to  go  around  by  sea  and  take  posses- 
sion of  Charlestown  Neck,  thereby  cutting  off  the 
Americans  from  the  mainland  and  starving  them 
out.  But  it  was  thought  that  time  was  too  pre- 
cious to  admit  of  so  slow  a method.  Should  the 
Americans  succeed,  in  the  course  of  the  afternoon, 
in  planting  a battery  of  siege  guns  on  Breed’s 
Hill,  the  British  position  in  Boston  would  be  en- 
Gage  decide,  daggered.  A direct  assault  was  pre- 
SJgr an  as'  ferred,  as  likely  to  be  more  speedily  ef- 
fective. It  was  unanimously  agreed 
that  these  “ peasants  ” could  not  withstand  the 
charge  of  3,000  veteran  soldiers,  and  it  was  gravely 
doubted  if  they  would  stay  and  fight  at  all.  Gage 
accordingly  watched  the  proceedings,  buoyant 
with  hope.  In  a few  hours  the  disgrace  of  Lex- 
ington would  be  wiped  out,  and  this  wicked  rebel- 
lion would  be  ended.  At  noonday  the  troops  be- 
gan crossing  the  river  in  boats,  and  at  three  o’clock 
they  prepared  to  storm  the  intrenchments.  They 
advanced  in  two  parties,  General  Howe  toward 
the  rail-fence,  and  General  Pigott  toward  the  re- 
doubt, and  the  same  fate  awaited  both.  The 
Americans  reserved  fire  until  the  enemy  had  come 
within  fifty  yards,  when  all  at  once  they  poured 
forth  such  a deadly  volley  that  the  whole  front 
rank  of  the  British  was  mowed  as  if  by  the  sud- 
First  assault  den  sweep  of  a scythe.  For  a few  min- 
repulsed.  utes  the  gallant  veterans  held  their 
ground  and  returned  the  fire ; but  presently  an 
indescribable  shudder  ran  through  the  line,  and 


THE  CONTINENTAL  CONGRESS.  141 

they  gave  way  and  retreated  down  the  hillside  in 
disorder,  while  the  Americans  raised  an  exultant 
shout,  and  were  with  difficulty  restrained  by  their 
officers  from  leaping  over  the  breastworks  and 
pursuing. 

A pause  now  ensued,  during  which  the  village 
of  Charlestown  was  set  on  fire  by  shells  from  the 
fleet,  and  soon  its  four  hundred  wooden  houses 
were  in  a roaring  blaze,  while  charred  timbers 
strewed  the  lawns  and  flower-beds,  and  the  sky  was 
blackened  with  huge  clouds  of  smoke.  If  the  pur- 
pose of  this  wholesale  destruction  of  property  was, 
as  some  have  thought,  to  screen  the  sec-  second  assault 
ond  British  advance,  the  object  was  not  repulsed* 
attained,  for  a light  breeze  drove  the  smoke  the 
wrong  way.  As  the  bright  red  coats,  such  excel- 
lent targets  for  trained  marksmen,  were  seen  the 
second  time  coming  up  the  slope,  the  Americans, 
now  cool  and  confident,  withheld  their  fire  until 
the  distance  was  less  than  thirty  yards.  Then, 
with  a quick  succession  of  murderous  discharges, 
such  havoc  was  wrought  in  the  British  lines  as 
soon  to  prove  unendurable.  After  a short  but  ob- 
stinate struggle  the  lines  were  broken,  and  the  gal- 
lant troops  retreated  hastily,  leaving  the  hillside 
covered  with  their  dead  and  wounded.  All  this 
time  the  Americans,  in  their  sheltered  position, 
had  suffered  but  little. 

So  long  a time  now  elapsed  that  many  persons 
began  to  doubt  if  the  British  would  renew  the  as- 
sault. Had  the  organization  of  the  American 
army  been  better,  such  reinforcements  of  men  and 
ammunition  might  by  this  time  have  arrived  from 


142 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


Cambridge  that  any  further  attack  upon  the  hill 
would  be  sure  to  prove  fruitless.  But  all  was  con- 
fusion at  headquarters.  General  Ward  was  ill 
furnished  with  staff  officers,  and  wrong  information 
was  brought,  while  orders  were  misunderstood. 
And  besides,  in  his  ignorance  of  the  extent  of 
Gage’s  plans,  General  Ward  was  nervously  afraid 
of  weakening  his  centre  at  Cambridge.  Three 
regiments  were  sent  over  too  late  to  be  of  any  use, 

p escott’s  an(^  meanwhile  Prescott,  to  his  dismay, 
powder  gives  found  that  his  stock  of  powder  was 
nearly  exhausted.  While  he  was  mak- 
ing ready  for  a hand-to-hand  fight,  the  British  offi- 
cers were  holding  a council  of  war,  and  many  de- 
clared that  to  renew  the  attack  would  be  simply 
useless  butchery.  On  the  other  hand,  General 
Howe  observed,  “ To  be  forced  to  give  up  Boston 
would,  gentlemen,  be  very  disagreeable  to  us  all.” 
The  case  was  not  really  so  desperate  as  this,  for 
the  alternative  of  an  attack  upon  Charlestown 
Neck  still  remained  open,  and  every  consideration 
of  sound  generalship  now  prescribed  that  it  should 
be  tried.  But  Howe  could  not  bear  to  acknow- 
ledge the  defeat  of  his  attempts  to  storm,  and  ac- 
Third  assault  cordingly,  at  five  o’clock,  with  genuine 
Britfsif  takeh°  British  persistency,  a third  attack  was 
the  hiii.  ordered.  For  a moment  the  advancing 
columns  were  again  shaken  by  the  American  fire, 
but  the  last  cartridges  were  soon  spent,  and  by 
resolute  bayonet  charges  and  irregular  volleys  that 
could  not  be  returned  the  Americans  were  slowly 
driven  from  their  works  and  forced  to  retreat  over 
Charlestown  Neck,  while  the  whole  disputed 


THE  CONTINENTAL  CONGRESS.  143 


ground,  including  the  summit  of  Bunker  Hill, 
passed  into  the  hands  of  the  British. 

In  this  battle,  in  which  not  more  than  one  hour 
was  spent  in  actual  fighting,  the  British  loss  in 
killed  and  wounded  was  1,054,  or  more  than  one 
third  of  the  whole  force  engaged,  including  an  un- 
usually large  proportion  of  officers.  The  Ameri- 
can loss,  mainly  incurred  at  the  rail-fence  and  dur- 
ing: the  final  hand-to-hand  struggle  at  „ . 

the  redoubt,  was  449,  probably  about  ^“^ican 
one  fourth  of  the  whole  force  engaged. 

On  the  British  side,  one  company  of  grenadiers 
came  out  of  the  battle  with  only  five  of  its  number 
left  unhurt.  Every  officer  on  General  Howe’s 
staff  was  cut  down,  and  only  one  survived  his 
wounds.  The  gallant  Pitcairn,  who  had  fired  the 
first  shot  of  the  war,  fell  while  entering  the  re- 
doubt, and  a few  moments  later  the  Americans  met 
with  an  irreparable  loss  in  the  death  of  General 
Warren,  who  was  shot  in  the  forehead  as  he  lin- 
gered with  rash  obstinacy  on  the  scene,  loath  to 
join  in  the  inevitable  retreat.  Another  volunteer 
aid,  not  less  illustrious  than  Warren,  fought  on 
Bunker  Hill  that  day,  and  came  away  scatheless. 
Since  the  brutal  beating  which  he  had  received  at 
the  coffee-house  nearly  six  years  before,  the  great 
intellect  of  James  Otis  had  suffered  well-nigh  total 
wreck.  He  was  living,  harmlessly  insane,  at  the 
house  of  his  sister,  Mercy  Warren,  at  Watertown, 
when  he  witnessed  the  excitement  and  listened  to 
the  rumour  of  battle  on  the  morning  of  the  17th  of 
June.  With  touching  eagerness  to  strike  a blow 
for  the  cause  in  which  he  had  already  suffered  so 


144 


TUE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


dreadful  a martyrdom,  Otis  stole  away  from  home, 
borrowed  a musket  at  some  roadside  farmhouse, 
and  hastened  to  the  battlefield,  where  he  fought 
manfully,  and  after  all  was  over  made  his  way 
home,  weary  and  faint,  a little  before  midnight. 

Though  small  in  its  dimensions,  if  compared 
with  great  European  battles,  or  with  the  giant  con- 
Excessive  tests  of  our  own  civil  war,  the  struggle 
significance  of  at  Bunker  Hill  is  memorable  and  in- 
the  battle.  structive,  even  from  a purely  military 
point  of  view.  Considering  the  numbers  engaged 
and  the  short  duration  of  the  fight,  the  destruction 
of  life  was  enormous.  Of  all  the  hardest-fought 
fields  of  modern  times,  there  have  been  very  few 
indeed  in  which  the  number  of  killed  and  wounded 
has  exceeded  one  fourth  of  the  whole  force  en- 
gaged. In  its  bloodiness  and  in  the  physical  con- 
ditions of  the  struggle,  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill 
resembles  in  miniature  the  tremendous  battles  of 
Eredericksburg  and  Cold  Harbor.  To  ascend  a 
rising  ground  and  storm  well-manned  intrench- 
ments  has  in  all  ages  been  a difficult  task ; at  the 
present  day,  with  the  range  and  precision  of  our 
modern  weapons,  it  has  come  to  be  almost  impossi- 
ble. It  has  become  a maxim  of  modern  warfare 
that  only  the  most  extraordinary  necessity  can  jus- 
tify a commander  in  resorting  to  so  desperate  a 
measure.  He  must  manoeuvre  against  such  posi- 
tions, cut  them  off  by  the  rear,  or  deprive  them  of 
their  value  by  some  flanking  march ; but  he  must 
not,  save  as  a forlorn  hope,  waste  precious  human 
lives  in  an  effort  to  storm  them  that  is  almost  sure 
to  prove  fruitless.  For  our  means  of  destroying 


THE  CONTINENTAL  CONGRESS.  145 


life  have  become  so  powerful  and  so  accurate  that, 
when  skilfully  wielded  from  commanding  posh 
tions,  no  human  gallantry  can  hope  to  withstand 
them.  As  civilization  advances,  warfare  becomes 
less  and  less  a question  of  mere  personal  bravery, 
and  more  and  more  a question  of  the  application 
of  resistless  physical  forces  at  the  proper  points ; 
that  is  to  say,  it  becomes  more  and  more  a purely 
scientific  problem  of  dynamics.  Now  at  Bunker 
Hill,  though  the  Americans  had  not  our  modern 
weapons  of  precision,  yet  a similar  effect  was 
wrought  by  the  remarkable  accuracy  of  their  aim, 
due  to  the  fact  that  they  were  all  trained  marks- 
men, who  waited  coolly  till  they  could  fire  at  short 
range,  and  then  wasted  no  shots  in  random  firing. 
Most  of  the  British  soldiers  who  fell  in  the  two 
disastrous  charges  of  that  day  were  doubtless 
picked  off  as  partridges  are  picked  off  by  old 
sportsmen,  and  thus  is  explained  the  unprecedented 
slaughter  of  officers.  Probably  nothing  quite  like 
this  had  yet  been  seen  in  the  history  of  war,  though 
the  principle  had  been  similar  in  those  wonderful 
trials  of  the  long-bow  in  such  mediaeval  battles  as 
Crecy  and  Dupplin  Moor.  Against  such  odds  even 
British  pluck  and  endurance  could  not  possibly  pre- 
vail. Under  these  circumstances,  had  the  Ameri- 
cans been  properly  supplied  with  powder,  Howe 
could  no  more  have  taken  Bunker  Hill  by  storm 
than  Burnside  could  take  the  heights  of  Freder- 
icksburg. 

The  moral  effect  of  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill, 
both  in  America  and  Europe,  was  remarkable.  It 
was  for  the  British  a decided  and  important  vie- 


146 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION . 


tory,  inasmuch  as  they  not  only  gained  the  ground 
for  which  the  battle  was  fought,  but  by  so  doing 
its  moral  they  succeeded  in  keeping  their  hold 
upon  Boston  for  nine  months  longer. 
Nevertheless,  the  moral  advantage  was  felt  to  be 
entirely  on  the  side  of  the  Americans.  It  was  they 
who  were  elated  by  the  day’s  work,  while  it  was 
the  British  who  were  dispirited.  The  belief  that 
Americans  could  not  fight  was  that  day  dispelled 
forever.  British  officers  who  remembered  Fonte- 
noy  and  Minden  declared  that  the  firing  at  Bunker 
Hill  was  the  hottest  they  had  ever  known,  and, 
with  an  exaggeration  which  was  pardonable  as  a 
reaction  from  their  former  ill-judged  contempt,  it 
was  asserted  that  the  regulars  of  France  were  less 
formidable  foes  than  the  militia  of  New  England. 
It  was  keenly  felt  that  if  a conquest  of  a single 
strategic  position  had  encountered  such  stubborn 
resistance,  the  task  of  subjugating  the  United  Col- 
onies was  likely  to  prove  a hard  one.  “ I wish  we 
could  sell  them  another  hill  at  the  same  price,” 
taid  General  Greene.  Yergennes,  the  French  min- 
ister of  foreign  affairs,  exclaimed  that  with  two 
more  such  victories  England  would  have  no  army 
left  in  America.  Washington  said  there  could 
now  be  no  doubt  that  the  liberties  of  the  people 
were  secure.  While  Franklin,  taking  extreme 
ground,  declared  that  England  had  lost  her  colo- 
nies forever. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


INDEPENDENCE. 

On  the  2d  of  July,  1775,  after  a journey  of 
eleven  days,  General  Washington  arrived  in  Bos- 
ton from  Philadelphia,  and  on  the  following  day, 
under  the  shade  of  the  great  elm-tree  _ . . . 
which  still  stands  hard  by  Cambridge  arrives  in 
Common,  he  took  command  of  the  Con- 
tinental army,  which  as  yet  was  composed  entirely 
of  New  Englanders.  Of  the  16,000  men  engaged 
in  the  siege  of  Boston,  Massachusetts  furnished 
11,500,  Connecticut  2,300,  New  Hampshire  1,200, 
Rhode  Island  1,000.  These  contingents  were 
arrayed  under  their  local  commanders,  and  under 
the  local  flags  of  their  respective  commonwealths, 
though  Artemas  Ward  of  Massachusetts  had  by 
courtesy  exercised  the  chief  command  until  the  ar- 
rival of  Washington.  During  the  month  of  July, 
Congress  gave  a more  continental  complexion  to 
the  army  by  sending  a reinforcement  of  3,000  men 
from  Pennsylvania,  Maryland,  and  Virginia,  in- 
cluding the  famous  Daniel  Morgan,  with  his  sturdy 
band  of  sharpshooters,  each  man  of  whom,  it  was 
said,  while  marching  at  double-quick,  could  cleave 
with  his  rifle-ball  a squirrel  at  a distance  of  three 
hundred  yards.  The  summer  of  1775  thus  brought 
together  in  Cambridge  many  officers  whose  names 


148 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


were  soon  to  become  household  words  throughout 
the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land,  and  a moment 
may  be  fitly  spent  in  introducing  them  before  we 
proceed  with  the  narrative  of  events. 

Daniel  Morgan,  who  had  just  arrived  from  Vir- 
ginia with  his  riflemen,  was  a native  of  New  J ersey, 
Daniel  of  Welsh  descent.  Moving  to  Virginia 

Morgan.  ^ an  eariy  ag^  pe  jja(j  won  a great 

reputation  for  bravery  and  readiness  of  resource 
in  the  wild  campaigns  of  the  Seven  Years’  War. 
He  was  a man  of  gigantic  stature  and  strength, 
and  incredible  powers  of  endurance.  In  his  youth, 
it  is  said,  he  had  received  five  hundred  lashes  by 
order  of  a tyrannical  British  officer,  and  had  come 
away  alive  and  defiant.  On  another  occasion,  in  a 
fierce  woodland  fight  with  the  Indians,  in  which 
nearly  all  his  comrades  were  slain,  Morgan  was 
shot  through  the  neck  by  a musket-ball.  Almost 
fainting  from  the  wound,  which  he  believed  to  be 
fatal,  Morgan  was  resolved,  nevertheless,  not  to  leave 
his  scalp  in  the  hands  of  a dirty  Indian ; and  fall- 
ing forward,  with  his  arms  tightly  clasped  about 
the  neck  of  his  stalwart  horse,  though  mists  were 
gathering  before  his  eyes,  he  spurred  away  through 
the  forest  paths,  until  his  foremost  Indian  pursuer, 
unable  to  come  up  with  him,  hurled  his  tomahawk 
after  him  with  a yell  of  baffled  rage,  and  gave  up 
the  chase.  With  this  unconquerable  tenacity,  Mor- 
gan was  a man  of  gentle  and  unselfish  nature ; a 
genuine  diamond,  though  a rough  one  ; uneducated, 
but  clear  and  strong  in  intelligence  and  faithful  in 
every  fibre.  At  Cambridge  began  his  long  com- 
radeship with  a very  different  character,  Benedict 


INDEPENDENCE.  149 

Arnold,  a young  man  of  romantic  and  generous  im- 
pulses, and  for  personal  bravery  unsur-  Benedict 
passed,  but  vain  and  self-seeking,  and  Arnold' 
lacking  in  moral  robustness;  in  some  respects  a 
more  polished  man  than  Morgan,  but  of  a nature 
at  once  coarser  and  weaker.  We  shall  see  these 
two  men  associated  in  some  of  the  most  brilliant 
achievements  of  the  war ; and  we  shall  see  them 
persecuted  and  insulted  by  political  enemies,  until 
the  weaker  nature  sinks  and  is  ruined,  while  the 
stronger  endures  to  the  end. 

Along  with  Morgan  and  Arnold  there  might 
have  been  seen  on  Cambridge  Common  a man  who 
was  destined  to  play  no  less  conspicuous  a part  in 
the  great  campaign  which  was  to  end  in  the 
first  decisive  overthrow  of  the  British.  For  native 
shrewdness,  rough  simplicity,  and  daunt-  John  gtark 
less  courage,  John  Stark  was  much  like 
Morgan.  What  the  one  name  was  in  the  great 
woods  of  the  Virginia  frontier,  that  was  the  other 
among  the  rugged  hills  of  northern  New  England, 
— a symbol  of  patriotism  and  a guarantee  of  vic- 
tory. Great  as  was  Stark’s  personal  following  in 
New  Hampshire,  he  had  not,  however,  the  chief 
command  of  the  troops  of  that  colony.  The  com- 
mander of  the  New  Hampshire  contin- 

0 iii  John  Sullivan. 

gent  was  J olm  Sullivan,  a wealthy  law- 
yer of  Durham,  who  had  sat  in  the  first  Conti- 
nental Congress.  Sullivan  was  a gentleman  of 
wide  culture  and  fair  ability  as  a statesman.  As 
a general,  he  was  brave,  intelligent,  and  faithful, 
but  in  no  wise  brilliant.  Closely  associated  with 
Sullivan  for  the  next  three  years  we  shall  find 


150 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


Nathanael  Greene,  now  in  command  of  the  Rhody; 
Island  contingent.  For  intellectual  calibre  the 
other  officers  here  mentioned  are  dwarfed  at  once 
in  comparison  with  Greene,  who  comes  out  at  the 
end  of  the  war  with  a military  reputation  scarcely, 
if  at  all,  inferior  to  that  of  Washington.  Nor  was 
Nathanael  Greene  less  notable  for  the  sweetness 
Greene.  and  purity  of  his  character  than  for  the 
scope  of  his  intelligence.1  He  had  that  rare  genius 
which  readily  assimilates  all  kinds  of  knowledge 
through  an  inborn  correctness  of  method.  What- 
ever he  touched,  it  was  with  a master  hand,  and  his 
weight  of  sense  soon  won  general  recognition.  Such 
a man  was  not  unnaturally  an  eager  book-buyer, 
and  in  this  way  he  had  some  time  ago 
been  brought  into  pleasant  relations 
with  the  genial  and  intelligent  Henry  Knox,  who 
from  his  bookshop  in  Boston  had  come  to  join  the 
army  as  a colonel  of  artillery,  and  soon  became  one 
of  Washington’s  most  trusty  followers. 

Of  this  group  of  officers,  none  have  as  yet 
reached  very  high  rank  in  the  Continental  army. 
Sullivan  and  Greene  stand  at  the  end  of  the  list 
of  brigadier-generals  ; the  rest  are  colo- 

Older  officers.  . — . 

nels.  lhe  senior  major-general,  Arte- 
mas  Ward,  and  the  senior  brigadiers,  Pomeroy 

1 [Of  a family  always  prominent  in  Rhode  Island,  he  had  early 
come  to  be  the  most  admired  and  respected  citizen  of  the  colony. 
His  father,  a narrow-minded  Quaker,  though  rich  in  lands,  mills, 
and  iron  forges,  was  averse  to  education,  and  kept  his  son  at 
work  in  the  forges.  But  the  son  had  an  intense  thirst  for 
knowledge,  and,  without  neglecting  his  duties,  he  bought  hooks 
and  became  well  versed  in  history,  philosophy,  and  general  litera* 
ture.] 


INDEPENDENCE. 


151 


Heath,  Thomas,  Wooster,  and  Spencer,  will  pres- 
ently pass  into  the  background,  to  make  way  for 
these  younger  or  more  vigorous  men.  Major- 
General  Israel  Putnam,  the  picturesque 

. . Israel  Putnam. 

sterling  patriot, 
but  of  slender  military  capacity,  will  remain  in  the 
foreground  for  another  year,  and  will  then  become 
relegated  mainly  to  garrison  duty. 

With  the  exception  of  Morgan,  all  the  officers 
here  noticed  are  New  England  men,  as  is  natural, 
since  the  seat  of  war  is  in  Massachusetts,  and  an 
army  really  continental  in  complexion  is  still  to  be 
formed.  The  Southern  colonies  have  as  yet  con- 
tributed only  Morgan  and  the  commander-in-chief. 
New  York  is  represented,  in  the  Continental  army, 
by  two  of  the  noblest  of  American  heroes, — Major- 
General  Philip  Schuyler  and  Brigadier-General 
Richard  Montgomery ; but  these  able  men  are  now 
watching  over  Ticonderoga  and  the  Indian  frontier 
of  New  York.  But  among  the  group  which  in 
1775  met  for  consultation  on  Cambridge  Common, 
or  in  the  noble  Tory  mansion  now  hallowed  alike 
by  memories  of  Washington  and  of  Longfellow, 
there  were  yet  two  other  generals,  closely 

. J ® . . Horatio  Gate* 

associated  with  each  other  for  a time  in  and  Charles 

Lee. 

ephemeral  reputation  won  by  false  pre- 
tences, and  afterwards  in  lasting  ignominy.  It  is 
with  pleasure  that  one  recalls  the  fact  that  these 
men  were  not  Americans,  though  both  possessed 
estates  in  Virginia;  it  is  with  regret  that  one  is 
forced  to  own  them  as  Englishmen.  Of  Horatio 
Gates  and  his  career  of  imbecility  and  intrigue, 
we  shall  by  and  by  see  more  than  enough.  At 


wolf-slayer,  a brave  and 


152 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


this  time  he  was  present  in  Cambridge  as  adjutant* 
general  of  the  army.  But  his  friend,  Charles  Lee, 
was  for  the  moment  a far  more  conspicuous  per- 
sonage ; and  this  eccentric  creature,  whose  career 
was  for  a long  time  one  of  the  difficult  problems 
in  American  history,  needs  something  more  than  a 
passing  word  of  introduction. 

Although  Major-General  Charles  Lee  happened 
to  have  acquired  an  estate  in  Virginia,  he  had 
nothing  in  common  with  the  illustrious  family  of 
Virginian  Lees  beyond  the  accidental  identity  of 
name.  He  was  born  in  England,  and  had  risen  in 
the  British  army  to  the  rank  of  lieutenant-colonel. 
Lee’s  personal  He  had  served  in  America  in  the  Seven 
peculiarities.  years>  War,  and  afterward,  as  a soldier 

of  fortune,  he  had  wandered  about  Europe,  obtain- 
ing at  one  time  a place  on  the  staff  of  the  king  of 
Poland.  A restless  adventurer,  he  had  come  over 
again  to  America  as  soon  as  he  saw  that  a war  was 
brewing  here.  There  is  nothing  to  show  that  he 
cared  a rush  for  the  Americans,  or  for  the  cause 
in  which  they  were  fighting,  but  he  sought  the 
opportunity  of  making  a name  for  himself.  He 
was  received  with  enthusiasm  by  the  Americans. 
His  loud,  pompous  manner  and  enormous  self-con- 
fidence at  first  imposed  upon  everybody.  He  was 
tall,  lank,  and  hollow-cheeked,  with  a discontented 
expression  of  face.  In  dress  he  was  extremely 
slovenly.  He  was  fond  of  dogs,  and  always  had 
three  or  four  at  his  heels,  but  toward  men  and 
women  his  demeanour  was  morose  and  insulting. 
He  had  a sharp,  cynical  wit,  and  was  always  mak- 
ing severe  remarks  in  a harsh,  rough  voice.  But 


INDEPENDENCE. 


153 


disagreeable  as  he  was,  the  trustful  American 
imagination  endowed  him  with  the  qualities  of  a 
great  soldier.  His  reputation  was  part  of  the  un- 
conscious tribute  which  the  provincial  mind  of  our 
countrymen  was  long  wont  to  pay  to  the  men  and 
things  of  Europe ; and  for  some  time  his  worst 
actions  found  a lenient  interpretation  as  the  mere 
eccentricities  of  a wayward  genius.  He  had  hoped 
to  be  made  commander-in-chief  of  the  army,  and 
had  already  begun  to  nourish  a bitter  grudge 
against  Washington,  by  whom  he  regarded  himself 
as  supplanted.  In  the  following  year  we  shall  see 
him  endeavouring  to  thwart  the  plans  of  Washing- 
ton at  the  most  critical  moment  of  the  war,  but  for 
the  present  he  showed  no  signs  of  insincerity,  ex- 
cept perhaps  in  an  undue  readiness  to  parley  with 
the  British  commanders.  As  soon  as  it  became 
clear  that  a war  was  beginning,  the  hope  of  win- 
ning glory  by  effecting  an  accommodation  with  the 
enemy  offered  a dangerous  temptation  to  men  of 
weak  virtue  in  eminent  positions.  In  October, 
1775,  the  American  camp  was  thrown  into  great 
consternation  by  the  discovery  that  Dr.  Benjamin 
Benjamin  Church,  one  of  the  most  con-  Church* 
spicuous  of  the  Boston  leaders,  had  engaged  in  a 
secret  correspondence  with  the  enemy.  Dr.  Church 
was  thrown  into  jail,  but  as  the  evidence  of  treason- 
able intent  was  not  absolutely  complete,  he  was  set 
free  in  the  following  spring,  and  allowed  to  visit 
the  West  Indies  for  his  health.  The  ship  in  which 
he  sailed  was  never  heard  from  again.  This  kind 
of  temptation,  to  which  Church  succumbed  at  the 
first  outbreak  of  the  war,  beset  Lee  with  fatal 


154 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


effect  after  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  and 
wrought  the  ruin  of  Arnold  after  the  conclusion  of 
the  French  alliance. 

To  such  a man  as  Charles  Lee,  destitute  of  faith 
in  the  loftier  human  virtues  or  in  the  strength  of 
political  ideas,  it  might  easily  have  seemed  that 
more  was  to  be  hoped  from  negotiation  than  from 
an  attempt  to  resist  Great  Britain  with  such  an 
army  as  that  of  which  he  now  came  to  command 
the  left  wing.  It  was  fortunate  that  the  British 
generals  were  ignorant  of  the  real  state  of  things. 
Among  the  moral  effects  of  the  battle  of  Bunker 
Hill  there  was  one  which  proved  for  the  moment 
to  be  of  inestimable  value.  It  impressed  upon 
General  Howe,  who  now  succeeded  to  the  chief 
command,  the  feeling  that  the  Americans  were 
more  formidable  than  had  been  supposed,  and  that 
much  care  and  forethought  would  be  required  for 
a successful  attack  upon  them.  In  a man  of  his 
easy-going  disposition,  such  a feeling  was  enough 
to  prevent  decisive  action.  It  served  to  keep  the 
British  force  idle  in  Boston  for  months,  and  was 
thus  of  great  service  to  the  American  cause* 
For  in  spite  of  the  zeal  and  valour  it  had  shown, 
this  army  of  New  England  minute-men  was  by  no 
means  in  a fit  condition  for  carrying  on  such  an 
arduous  enterprise  as  the  siege  of  Boston.  When 
Washington  took  command  of  the  army  on  Cam- 
bridge Common,  he  found  that  the  first  and  most 
trying  task  before  him  was  out  of  this  excellent 
but  very  raw  material  to  create  an  army  upon 
which  he  could  depend.  The  battle  of  Bunker 
Hill  had  just  been  lost,  under  circumstances  which 


INDEPENDENCE.  155 

were  calculated  to  cheer  the  Americans  and 
make  them  hopeful  of  the  future ; but 

. , , ,r  . ill  Difficult  work 

it  would  not  do  to  risk  another  battle,  for  washing- 

. ton. 

with  an  untrained  staff  and  a scant 
supply  of  powder.  All  the  work  of  organizing  an 
army  was  still  to  be  done,  and  the  circumstances 
were  not  such  as  to  make  it  an  easy  work.  It  was 
not  merely  that  the  men,  who  were  much  better 
trained  in  the  discipline  of  the  town-meeting  than 
in  that  of  the  camp,  needed  to  be  taught  the  all- 
important  lesson  of  military  subordination : it  was 
at  first  a serious  question  how  they  were  to  be 
kept  together  at  all.  That  the  enthusiasm  kindled 
on  the  day  of  Lexington  should  have  sufficed  to 
bring  together  16,000  men,  and  to  keep  them  for 
three  months  at  their  posts,  was  already  remark- 
able ; but  no  army,  however  patriotic  and  self-sac- 
rificing, can  be  supported  on  enthusiasm  alone. 
The  army  of  which  Washington  took  command 
was  a motley  crowd,  clad  in  every  variety  of  rustic 
attire,  armed  with  trusty  muskets  and  rifles,  as  their 
recent  exploit  had  shown,  but  destitute  of  almost 
everything  else  that  belongs  to  a soldier’s  outfit. 
From  the  Common  down  to  the  river,  their  rude 
tents  were  dotted  about  here  and  there,  some  made 
of  sail-cloth  stretched  over  poles,  some  piled  up  of 
stones  and  turf,  some  oddly  wrought  of  twisted 
green  boughs ; while  the  more  fortunate  ones  found 
comparatively  luxurious  quarters  in  Massachusetts 
Hall,  or  in  the  little  Episcopal  church,  or  in  the 
houses  of  patriotic  citizens.  These  volunteers  had 
enlisted  for  various  periods,  under  various  con- 
tracts with  various  town  or  provincial  govern- 


156  THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 

ments.  Their  terms  of  service  had  naturally  been 
conceived  to  be  short,  and  it  was  not  only  not  alto- 
gether clear  how  they  were  going  to  be  paid,  but 
it  was  not  easy  to  see  how  they  were  going  to  be 
fed.  That  this  army  should  have  been  already 
subsisted  for  three  months,  without  any  commis- 
sariat, was  in  itself  an  extraordinary  fact.  Day 
by  day  the  heavy  carts  had  rumbled  into  Cam- 
bridge, bringing  from  the  highlands  of  Berkshire 
and  Worcester,  and  from  the  Merrimac  and  Con- 
necticut valleys,  whatever  could  in  any  wise  be 
spared  of  food,  or  clothing,  or  medicines,  for  the 
patriot  army ; and  the  pleasant  fields  of  Cambridge 
were  a busy  scene  of  kindness  and  sympathy. 

Sucb  means  as  these,  however,  could  not  long 
be  efficient.  If  war  was  to  be  successfully  con- 
ducted, there  must  be  a commissariat,  there  must 
be  ammunition,  and  there  must  be  money.  And 
here  Washington  found  himself  confronted  with 
the  difficulty  which  never  ceased  to  vex  his  noble 
soul  and  disturb  his  best  laid  schemes  until  the 
day  when  he  swooped  down  upon  Cornwallis  at 
Yorktown.  He  had  to  keep  making 
governmental  the  army,  with  which  he  was  too  often 
organization.  expect;e(j  £0  fight  battles  ere  it  was  half 

made ; and  in  this  arduous  work  he  could  get  but 
little  systematic  help  from  any  quarter.  At  pres- 
ent the  difficulty  was  that  there  was  nowhere  any 
organized  government  competent  to  support  an 
army.  On  Washington’s  arrival,  the  force  sur- 
rounding Boston  owed  allegiance,  as  we  have  seen, 
to  four  distinct  commonwealths,  of  which  two, 
indeed,  — Connecticut  and  Rhode  Island,  — pre- 


INDEPENDENCE. 


157 


serving  their  ancient  charters,  with  governors 
elected  by  themselves,  were  still  in  their  normal 
condition.  In  New  Hampshire,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  royal  governor,  Wentworth,  whose  personal 
popularity  was  deservedly  great,  still  kept  his 
place,  while  Stark  and  his  men  had  gone  to  Cam- 
bridge in  spite  of  him.  In  Massachusetts  the  rev- 
olutionary Provincial  Congress  still  survived,  but 
with  uncertain  powers  ; even  the  Continental  Con- 
gress which  adopted  the  Cambridge  army  in  the 
name  of  the  United  Colonies  was  simply  an  ad- 
visory body,  without  the  power  to  raise  taxes  or 
to  beat  up  recruits.  From  this  administrative 
chaos,  through  which  all  the  colonies,  save  Con- 
necticut and  Rhode  Island,  were  forced  to  pass  in 
these  trying  times,  Massachusetts  was  the  first  to 
emerge,  in  July,  1775,  by  reverting  to  Newgovenl. 
the  provisions  of  its  old  charter,  and  “®^s°eftt^as* 
forming  a government  in  which  the  July»  as- 
king’s authority  was  virtually  disallowed.  A rep- 
resentative assembly  was  chosen  by  the  people 
in  their  town-meetings,  according  to  time-honoured 
precedent ; and  this  new  legislature  itself  elected 
an  annual  council  of  twenty-eight  members,  to  sit 
as  an  upper  house.  James  Bowdoin,  as  president 
of  the  council,  became  chief  executive  officer  of 
the  commonwealth,  and  John  Adams  was  made 
chief-justice.  Forty  thousand  pounds  were  raised 
by  a direct  tax  on  polls  and  on  real  estate,  and 
bills  of  credit  were  issued  for  1,000  more.  The 
commonwealth  adopted  a new  seal,  and  a proc- 
lamation, issued  somewhat  later  by  Chief-Justice 
Adams,  enjoining  it  upon  all  people  to  give  loyal 


158 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


obedience  to  the  new  government,  closed  with  the 
significant  invocation  “ God  save  the  people,”  in- 
stead of  the  customary  “ God  save  the  king.” 

In  taking  this  decisive  step,  Massachusetts  was 
simply  the  first  to  act  upon  the  general  recommen- 
dation of  the  Continental  Congress,  that  the  sev- 
eral colonies  should  forthwith  proceed  to  frame 
governments  for  themselves,  based  upon  the  suf- 
frages of  the  people.  From  such  a recommenda- 
tion as  this  to  a formal  declaration  of  indepen- 
dence, the  distance  to  be  traversed  was  not  great. 
Samuel  Adams  urged  that  in  declaring  the  colonies 
independent  Congress  would  be  simply  recognizing 
a fact  which  in  reality  already  existed,  and  that 
by  thus  looking  facts  squarely  in  the  face  the 
inevitable  war  might  be  conducted  with  far  greater 
efficiency.  But  he  was  earnestly  and  ably  opposed 
by  Dickinson  of  Pennsylvania,  whose  arguments 
for  the  present  prevailed  in  the  Congress.  It  was 
felt  that  the  Congress,  as  a mere  advisory  body, 
had  no  right  to  take  a step  of  such  supreme  im- 
portance without  first  receiving  explicit  instruc- 
tions from  every  one  of  the  colonies.  Besides 
this,  the  thought  of  separation  was  still  a pain- 
ful thought  to  most  of  the  delegates,  and  it 
was  deemed  well  worth  while  to  try  the  effect  of 
one  more  candid  statement  of  grievances,  to  be 
set  forth  in  a petition  to  his  majesty.  For  like 
reasons,  the  Congress  did  not  venture  to  take 
measures  to  increase  its  own  authority  ; 
»petpon8tod8  and  when  Franklin,  still  thinking  of 
union  as  he  had  been  thinking  for  more 
than  twenty  years,  now  brought  forward  a new 


INDEPENDENCE. 


159 


scheme,  somewhat  similar  to  the  Articles  of  Con- 
federation afterwards  adopted,  it  was  set  aside  as 
premature.  The  king  was  known  to  be  fiercely 
opposed  to  any  dealings  with  the  colonies  as  a 
united  body,  and  so  considerate  of  his  feelings 
were  these  honest  and  peace-loving  delegates  that, 
after  much  discussion,  they  signed  their  carefully 
worded  petition  severally,  and  not  jointly.  They 
signed  it  as  individuals  speaking  for  the  people 
of  the  American  colonies,  not  as  members  of  an 
organic  body  representing  the  American  people. 
To  emphasize  still  further  their  conciliatory  mood, 
the  delivery  of  the  petition  was  entrusted  to  Rich- 
ard Penn,  a descendant  of  the  great  Quaker  and 
joint-proprietary  in  the  government  of  Pennsyl- 
vania, an  excellent  man  and  an  ardent  loyalist. 
At  the  same  time  that  this  was  done,  an  issue  of 
paper  money  was  made,  to  be  severally  guaranteed 
by  the  thirteen  colonies,  and  half  a million  dollars 
were  sent  to  Cambridge  to  be  used  for  the  army. 

Military  operations,  however,  came  for  the  time 
to  a stand -still.  While  Washington’s  energies 
were  fully  occupied  in  organizing  and  drilling  his 
troops,  in  providing  them  with  powder  and  ball,  in 
raising  lines  of  fortification,  in  making  good  the 
troublesome  vacancies  due  to  short  terms  of  enlist- 
ment, and  above  all  in  presenting  unfailingly  a 
bold  front  to  the  enemy ; while  the  encampments 
about  Boston  were  the  daily  scene  of  tedious  work, 
without  any  immediate  prospect  of  brilliant  achieve- 
ment, the  Congress  and  the  people  were  patiently 
waiting  to  hear  the  result  of  the  last  petition  that 
was  ever  to  be  sent  from  these  colonies  to  the  king 
of  Great  Britain. 


160  THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


Penn  made  all  possible  haste,  and  arrived  in  Lon- 
don on  the  14th  of  August ; but  when  he  got  there 
the  king  would  neither  see  him,  nor  receive  the 
petition  in  any  way,  directly  or  indirectly.  The 
Congress  was  an  illegal  assembly  which  had  no 
business  to  send  letters  to  him : if  any  one  of  the 
colonies  wanted  to  make  terms  for  itself  separately, 
he  might  be  willing  to  listen  to  it.  But  this  idea 
of  a united  America  was  something  unknown 
either  to  law  or  to  reason,  something  that  could 
not  be  too  summarily  frowned  down.  So  while 
Penn  waited  about  London,  the  king 


The  king  is- 
Bues  a prodi 
mation,  and 


sues  a proda-  issued  a proclamation;  setting  forth 


tnK)pB°£rom  many  of  his  subjects  in  the  colonies 

Russia.  were  in  open  and  armed  rebellion,  and 
calling  upon  all  loyal  subjects  of  the  realm  to  assist 
in  bringing  to  condign  punishment  the  authors  and 
abettors  of  this  foul  treason.  Having  launched 
this  thunderbolt,  George  sent  at  once  to  Russia  to 
see  if  he  could  hire  20,000  men  to  aid  in  giving  it 
effect,  for  the  “ loyal  subjects  of  the  realm  ” were 
slow  in  coming  forward.  A war  against  the 
Americans  was  not  yet  popular  in  England.  Lord 
Chatham  withdrew  his  eldest  son,  Lord  Pitt,  from 
the  army,  lest  he  should  be  called  upon  to  serve 
against  the  men  who  were  defending  the  common 
liberties  of  Englishmen.  There  was,  moreover,  in 
England  as  well  as  in  America,  a distrust  of  regular 
armies.  Recruiting  was  difficult,  and  conscription 
was  something  that  the  people  would  not  endure 
unless  England  should  actually  be  threatened  with 
invasion.  The  king  had  already  been  obliged  to 
raise  a force  of  his  Hanoverian  subjects  to  garrison 


INDEPENDENCE. 


161 


Minorca  and  Gibraltar,  thus  setting  free  the  Brit- 
ish defenders  of  these  strongholds  for  service  in 
America.  He  had  no  further  resource  except  in 
hiring  troops  from  abroad.  But  his  attempt  in 
Russia  was  not  successful,  for  the  Em-  Catherine 
press  Catherine,  with  all  her  faults,  was  refuses- 
not  disposed  to  sell  the  blood  of  her  subjects.  She 
improved  the  occasion  — as  sovereigns  and  others 
will  sometimes  do  — by  asking  George,  sarcasti- 
cally, if  he  thought  it  quite  compatible  with  his 
dignity  to  employ  foreign  troops  against  his  own 
subjects ; as  for  Russian  soldiers,  she  had  none  to 
spare  for  such  a purpose.  Foiled  in  this  quarter, 
the  king  applied  to  the  Duke  of  Brunswick,  the 
Landgrave  of  Hesse  - Cassel,  the  princes  of  Wal- 
deck  and  Anhalt  - Zerbst,  the  Margrave  of  Ans- 
pach  - Bayreuth,  and  the  Count  of  Hesse -Hanau, 
and  succeeded  in  making  a bargain  for 
20,000  of  the  finest  infantry  in  Europe,  b^Sman 
with  four  good  generals,  — Riedesel  of  troops* 
Brunswick,  and  Knyphausen,  Yon  Heister,  and 
Donop  of  Hesse.  The  hiring  of  these  troops  was 
bitterly  condemned  by  Lord  John  Cavendish  in 
the  House  of  Commons,  and  by  Lords  Camden 
and  Shelburne  and  the  Duke  of  Richmond  in  the 
House  of  Lords  ; and  Chatham’s  indignant  invec- 
tives at  a somewhat  later  date  are  familiar  to  every 
one.  It  is  proper,  however,  that  in  such  an  affair 
as  this  we  should  take  care  to  affix  our  blame  in 
the  right  place.  The  king  might  well  argue  that 
in  carrying  on  a war  for  what  the  majority  of  Par- 
liament regarded  as  a righteous  object,  it  was  no 
worse  for  him  to  hire  men  than  to  buy  cannon 


162 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


and  ships.  The  German  troops,  on  their  part, 
might  justly  complain  of  Lord  Camden  for  stig- 
matizing them  as  “ mercenaries,”  inasmuch  as  they 
did  not  come  to  America  for  pay,  but  because  there 
was  no  help  for  it.  It  was  indeed  with  a heavy 
heart  that  these  honest  men  took  up  their  arms  to 
go  beyond  sea  and  fight  for  a cause  in  which  they 
felt  no  sort  of  interest,  and  great  was  the  mourn- 
ing over  their  departure.  The  persons  who  really 
deserved  to  bear  the  odium  of  this  transaction 
were  the  mercenary  princes  who  thus  shamelessly 
sold  their  subjects  into  slavery.  It  was  a striking 
instance  of  the  demoralization  which  had  been 
wrought  among  the  petty  courts  of  Germany  in 
the  last  days  of  the  old  empire,  and  among  the 
Indignation  in  German  people  it  excited  profound  in- 
Germany.  dignation.  The  popular  feeling  was 
well  expressed  by  Schiller,  in  his  “ Cabale  und 
Liebe.”  Frederick  the  Great,  in  a letter  to  Vol- 
taire, declared  himself  beyond  measure  disgusted, 
and  by  way  of  publicly  expressing  his  contempt 
for  the  transaction  he  gave  orders  to  his  custom- 
house officers  that  upon  all  such  of  these  soldiers 
as  should  pass  through  Prussian  territory  a toll 
should  be  levied,  as  upon  “ cattle  exported  for  for- 
eign shambles.” 

When  the  American  question  was  brought  up  in 
the  autumn  session  of  Parliament,  it  was  treated  in 
the  manner  with  which  the  Americans  had  by  this 
time  become  familiar.  A few  far-sighted  men  still 
urged  the  reasonableness  of  the  American  claims, 
but  there  was  now  a great  majority  against  them. 
In  spite  of  grave  warning  voices,  both  houses  do- 


INDEPENDENCE. 


163 


cided  to  support  the  king ; and  in  this  they  were 
upheld  by  the  university  of  Oxford,  which  a cen- 
tury ago  had  burned  the  works  of  John  Milton 
as  “ blasphemous,”  and  which  now,  with  equal 
felicity,  in  a formal  address  to  the  king,  described 
the  Americans  as  “ a people  who  had  forfeited  their 
lives  and  their  fortunes  to  the  justice  of  the  state.” 
At  the  same  time  the  department  of  American 
affairs  was  taken  from  the  amiable  Lord  Dart- 
mouth, and  given  to  the  truculent  Lord  George 
Germain.  Those  things  were  done  in  November, 
1775,  and  in  the  preceding  month  they  had  been 
heralded  by  an  act  of  wanton  barbarity  on  the  part 
of  a British  naval  officer,  albeit  an  unwarranted 
act,  which  the  British  government  as  promptly  as 
possible  disowned.  On  the  16th  of  Oc- 
tober, Captain  Mowatt  had  sailed  with  Portland, 
four  small  vessels  into  the  harbour  of  0ct16’ 1775‘ 
Portland  (then  called  Falmouth),  and  with  shells 
and  grenades  set  fire  to  the  little  town.  St.  Paul’s 
Church,  all  the  public  buildings,  and  three  fourths 
of  all  the  dwellings  were  burned  to  the  ground,  and 
a thousand  unoffending  men,  women,  and  children 
were  thus  turned  out-of-doors  just  as  the  sharp 
Maine  winter  was  coming  on  to  starve  and  freeze 
them.  ^ 

The  news  of  the  burning  of  Portland  reached 
Philadelphia  on  the  same  day  (October  31)  with 
the  news  that  George  III.  was  about  to  send  for- 
eign mercenaries  to  fight  against  his  American 
subjects ; and  now  the  wrath  of  Congress  was 
thoroughly  kindled,  and  the  party  which  advised 
further  temporizing  was  thrown  into  helpless  mb 
nority. 


164 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION . 


“Well,  brother  rebel,”  said  a Southern  member 
to  Samuel  Ward  of  Rhode  Island,  “ we  have  now 
got  a sufficient  answer  to  our  petition:  I want 
nothing  more,  but  am  ready  to  declare  ourselves 
Effects  upon  independent.”  Congress  now  advised 
congress.  New  Hampshire,  Virginia,  and  South 
Carolina  to  frame  for  themselves  new  republi- 
can governments,  as  Massachusetts  had  already 
done  ; it  urged  South  Carolina  to  seize  the  British 
vessels  in  her  waters  ; it  appointed  a committee  to 
correspond  with  foreign  powers ; and  above  all, 
it  adopted  unreservedly  the  scheme,  already  par- 
tially carried  out,  for  the  expulsion  of  the  British 
from  Canada. 

At  once  upon  the  outbreak  of  hostilities  at  Lex- 
ington, the  conquest  of  Canada  had  been  contem- 
plated by  the  Northern  patriots,  who  well  remem- 
bered how,  in  days  gone  by,  the  valley  of  the  St. 
Lawrence  had  furnished  a base  for  attacks  upon 
the  province  of  New  York,  which  was  then  the 
strategic  centre  of  the  American  world.  It  was 
deemed  an  act  of  military  prudence  to  secure  this 
region  at  the  outset.  But  so  long  as  the  least 
hope  of  conciliation  remained,  Congress  was  unwil- 
ling to  adopt  any  measures  save  such  as  were  purely 
The  Ameri-  defensive  in  character.  As  we  have  seen, 
cTadTslpt  ft  was  °nly  with  reluctance  that  it  had 
1775-  sanctioned  the  garrisoning  of  Ticonder- 

oga  by  the  Connecticut  troops.  But  in  the  course 
of  the  summer  it  was  learned  that  the  governor 
of  Canada,  Sir  Guy  Carleton,  was  about  to  take 
steps  to  recover  Ticonderoga ; and  it  was  credibly 
reported  that  intrigues  were  going  on  with  the  Iro- 


INDEPENDENCE. 


165 


quois  tribes,  to  induce  them  to  harry  the  New  Eng- 
land frontier  and  the  pleasant  farms  on  the  Hud- 
son : so  that,  under  these  circumstances,  the  inva- 
sion of  Canada  was  now  authorized  by  Congress 
as  a measure  of  self-defence.  An  expedition  down 
Lake  Champlain,  against  Montreal,  was  at  once 
set  on  foot.  As  Schuyler,  the  commander  of  the 
northern  department,  was  disabled  by  ill  health, 
the  enterprise  was  confided  to  Richard  Montgom- 
ery, and  it  could  not  have  been  put  in  better 
hands.  Late  in  August,  Montgomery  started 
from  Ticonderoga,  and  on  the  12th  of  September, 
with  a force  of  two  thousand  men,  he  laid  siege  to 
the  fortress  of  St.  John’s,  which  commanded  the 
approach  to  Montreal.  Carleton,  whose  utmost 
exertions  could  bring  together  only  some  nine  hun- 
dred men,  made  heroic  but  fruitless  efforts  to  stop 
his  progress.  After  a siege  of  fifty  days,  St. 
John’s  surrendered  on  the  3d  of  November,  and 
on  the  12th  Montgomery  entered  Montreal  in  tri- 
umph. The  people  of  Canada  had  thus  far  seemed 
favourably  disposed  toward  the  American  invaders, 
and  Montgomery  issued  a proclamation  urging 
them  to  lose  no  time  in  choosing  delegates  to  at- 
tend the  Continental  Congress. 

Meanwhile,  in  September,  Washington  had  de- 
tached from  the  army  at  Cambridge  one  thousand 
New  England  infantry,  with  two  companies  of 
Pennsylvania  riflemen  and  Morgan’s  famous  Vir- 
ginia sharpshooters,  and  ordered  them  to  advance 
upon  Quebec  through  the  forests  of  Maine  and  by 
way  of  the  rivers  Kennebec  and  Chaudiere.  The 
expedition  was  commanded  by  Colonel  Benedict 


166 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


Arnold,  who  seems  to  have  been  one  of  the  first, 

if  not  the  first,  to  suggest  it.  The  en- 

Amold’a  . ft 

march  terprise  was  one  to  call  for  all  his  per- 

throughthe  . r 

wilderness  of  sistent  daring  and  fertile  resource.  It 

Maine.  .....  . 

was  an  amphibious  journey,  as  they 
now  rowed  their  boats  with  difficulty  against  the 
strong,  swift  current  of  the  Kennebec,  and  now, 
carrying  boats  and  oars  on  their  shoulders,  forced 
their  way  through  the  tangled  undergrowth  of  the 
primeval  forests.  Often  they  had  to  wade  across 
perilous  bogs,  and  presently  their  shoes  were  cut 
to  pieces  by  sharp  stones,  and  their  clothes  torn 
to  shreds  by  thorns  and  briers.  Their  food  gave 
out,  and  though  some  small  game  was  shot,  their 
hunger  became  such  that  they  devoured  their  dogs. 
When  they  reached  the  head  of  the  Chaudiere, 
after  this  terrible  march  of  thirty-three  days,  two 
hundred  of  their  number  had  succumbed  to  starva- 
tion, cold,  and  fatigue,  while  two  hundred  more 
had  given  out  and  returned  to  Massachusetts,  car- 
rying with  them  such  of  the  sick  and  disabled  as 
they  could  save.  The  descent  of  the  Chaudiere  in 
their  boats  afforded  some  chance  for  rest,  and 
presently  they  began  to  find  cattle  for  food.  At 
last,  on  the  13th  of  November,  the  next  day  after 
Montgomery’s  capture  of  Montreal,  they  crossed 
the  broad  St.  Lawrence,  and  climbed  the  Heights 
of  Abraham  at  the  very  place  where  Wolfe  had 
climbed  to  victory  sixteen  years  ago.  There  was 
splendid  bravado  in  Arnold’s  advancing  to  the 
very  gates  with  his  little,  worn-out  army,  now  re- 
duced to  seven  hundred  men,  and  summoning  the 
garrison  either  to  come  out  and  fight,  or  to  surren- 


INDEPENDENCE. 


167 


der  the  town.  But  the  garrison  very  properly 
would  neither  surrender  nor  fight.  The  town  had 
been  warned  in  time,  and  Arnold  had  no  alterna* 
tive  but  to  wait  for  Montgomery  to  join  him. 

Six  days  afterward,  Carleton,  disguised  as  a 
farmer,  and  ferried  down  stream  in  a little  boat, 
found  his  way  into  Quebec ; and  on  the  3d  of  De- 
cember, Montgomery  made  his  appearance  with  a 
small  force,  which  raised  the  number  of  the  Amer- 
icans to  twelve  hundred  men.  As  Carleton  persist- 
ently refused  to  come  out  of  his  defences,  it  was 
resolved  to  carry  the  works  by  storm,  — a chival- 
rous, nay,  one  might  almost  say,  a foolhardy  deci- 
sion, had  it  not  been  so  nearly  justified  by  the 
event.  On  the  last  day  of  1775,  Eng- 

i i ....  p t • r\  Assault  upon 

land  came  within  an  ace  or  losing  Que-  Quebec,  Dec. 
bee.  At  two  o’clock  in  the  morning,  in 
a blinding  snowstorm,  Montgomery  and  Arnold 
began  each  a furious  attack,  at  opposite  sides  of 
the  town  ; and  aided  by  the  surprise,  each  came 
near  carrying  his  point.  Montgomery  had  almost 
forced  his  way  in  when  he  fell  dead,  pierced  by 
three  bullets ; and  this  so  chilled  the  enthusiasm 
of  his  men  that  they  flagged,  until  reinforcements 
drove  them  back.  Arnold,  on  his  side,  was  se- 
verely wounded  and  carried  from  the  field ; but 
the  indomitable  Morgan  took  his  place,  and  his 
Virginia  company  stormed  the  battery  opposed  to 
them,  and  fought  their  way  far  into  the  town.  Had 
the  attack  on  the  other  side  been  kept  up  with 
equal  vigour,  as  it  might  have  been  but  for  Mont- 
gomery’s death,  Quebec  must  have  fallen.  As  it 
was,  Morgan’s  triumphant  advance  only  served  to 


168 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


isolate  him,  and  presently  he  and  his  gallant  com- 
pany were  surrounded  and  captured. 

With  the  failure  of  this  desperate  attack  passed 

Total  failure  away  the  golden  opportunity  for  taking 
of  the  attempt  the  citadel  of  Canada.  Arnold  remained 

upon  Canada. 

throughout  the  winter  in  the  neighbour- 
hood cf  Quebec,  and  in  the  spring  the  enterprise 
was  taken  up  by  Wooster  and  Sullivan  with  fresh 
forces.  But  by  this  time  many  Hessians  had  come 
over,  and  Carleton,  reinforced  until  his  army  num- 
bered 18,000,  was  enabled  to  recapture  Montreal 
and  push  back  the  Americans,  until  in  June,  after 
a hazardous  retreat,  well  conducted  by  Sullivan, 
the  remnant  of  their  invading  army  found  shelter 
at  Crown  Point.  Such  was  the  disastrous  ending 
of  a campaign  which  at  the  outset  had  promised 
a brilliant  success,  and  which  is  deservedly  famous 
for  the  heroism  and  skill  with  which  it  was  con- 
ducted. The  generalship  of  Montgomery  received 
the  warm  approval  of  no  less  a critic  than  Freder- 
ick the  Great ; and  the  chivalrous  bravery  of  Ar- 
nold, both  in  his  march  through  the  wilderness  and 
in  the  military  operations  which  followed,  was  such 
that  if  a kind  fate  could  then  and  there  have  cut 
the  thread  of  his  life,  he  would  have  left  behind 
him  a sweet  and  shining  memory.  As  for  the  at- 
tempt to  bring  Canada  into  the  American  union,  it 
was  one  which  had  no  hope  of  success  save  through 
a strong  display  of  military  force.  The  sixteen 
years  which  had  elapsed  since  the  victory  of  W olfe 
had  not  transformed  the  Canadian  of  the  old  regime 
into  a free-born  Englishman.  The  question  at 
present  for  him  was  only  that  of  a choice  of  alle- 


INDEPENDENCE. 


169 


giance ; and  while  at  first  the  invaders  were  favour- 
ably received,  it  soon  became  apparent  that  be- 
tween the  Catholic  and  the  Puritan  there  could  be 
but  little  real  sympathy.  The  Quebec  Act,  which 
legalized  Catholic  worship  in  Canada,  had  done 
much  toward  securing  England’s  hold  upon  this 
part  of  her  American  possessions.  And  although, 
in  the  colourless  political  condition  of  this  northern 
province,  the  capture  of  Quebec  might  well  have 
brought  it  into  the  American  union,  where  it  would 
gradually  have  taken  on  a fresh  life,  as  surely  as 
it  has  done  under  British  guidance,  yet  nothing 
short  of  such  a military  occupation  could  have  had 
any  effect  in  determining  its  languid  preferences. 

While  Canada  was  thus  freed  from  the  presence 
of  the  Continental  troops,  the  British  army,  on  the 
other  hand,  was  driven  from  Boston,  and  New 
England  was  cleared  of  the  enemy.  During  the 
autumn  and  winter,  Washington  had  drawn  his 
lines  as  closely  as  possible  about  the  town,  while 
engaged  in  the  work  of  organizing  and  equipping 
his  army.  The  hardest  task  was  to  collect  a suf- 
ficient quantity  of  powder  and  ball,  and  to  bring 
together  siege-guns.  As  the  season  wore  on,  the 
country  grew  impatient,  and  Washing-  The8iegeof 
ton  sometimes  had  to  listen  to  criticisms  Boston* 
like  those  that  were  directed  against  McClellan 
in  Virginia,  at  the  beginning  of  1862,  or  against 
Grant  before  Vicksburg,  in  the  spring  of  1863. 
President  Hancock,  who  owned  a great  deal  of 
property  in  Boston,  urged  him  to  set  fire  to  the 
town  and  destroy  it,  if  by  so  doing  he  could  drive 
the  British  to  their  ships*.  But  W ashington  had 


170 


TUE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


planned  much  more  wisely.  By  the  1st  of  March 
a great  quantity  of  cannon  had  been  brought  in  by 
Henry  Knox,  some  of  them  dragged  on  sledges  all 
the  way  from  Ticonderoga,  and  so  at  last  Wash- 
ington felt  himself  prepared  to  seize  upon  Dorches- 
ter Heights.  This  position  commanded  the  town 
and  harbour  even  more  effectually  than  Bunker 
Hill,  and  why  in  all  these  months  General  Howe 
had  not  occupied  it  one  would  find  it  hard  to  say. 
He  was  bitterly  attacked  for  his  remissness  by  the 
British  newspapers,  as  was  quite  natural. 

Washington  chose  for  his  decisive  movement  the 
night  of  the  4th  of  March.  Eight  hundred  men 
led  the  way,  escorting  the  wagons  la- 

Washington  J a ® 

aeizes  Dor-  den  with  spades  and  crowbars,  hatchets, 

Chester  A * 

Heights,  hammers,  and  nails  ; and  after  them  fol- 
lowed  twelve  hundred  men,  with  three 
hundred  ox-carts,  carrying  timbers  and  bales  of 
hay  ; while  the  rear  was  brought  up  by  the  heavy 
siege-guns.  From  Somerville,  East  Cambridge, 
and  Koxbury,  a furious  cannonade  was  begun  soon 
after  sunset  and  kept  up  through  the  night,  com- 
pletely absorbing  the  attention  of  the  British,  who 
kept  up  a lively  fire  in  return.  The  roar  of  the 
cannon  drowned  every  other  sound  for  miles 
around,  while  all  night  long  the  two  thousand 
Americans,  having  done  their  short  march  in  per- 
fect secrecy,  were  busily  digging  and  building  on 
Dorchester  Heights,  and  dragging  their  siege-guns 
into  position.  Early  next  morning,  Howe  saw 
with  astonishment  what  had  been  done,  and  began 
to  realize  his  perilous  situation.  The  commander 
of  the  fleet  sent  word  that  unless  the  Americana 


INDEPENDENCE. 


171 


could  be  forthwith  dislodged,  he  could  not  venture 
to  keep  his  ships  in  the  harbour.  Most  of  the  day 
was  consumed  in  deciding  what  should  be  done, 
until  at  last  Lord  Percy  was  told  to  take  three 
thousand  men  and  storm  the  works.  But  the 
slaughter  of  Bunker  Hill  had  taught  its  lesson  so 
well  that  neither  Percy  nor  his  men  had  any  stom- 
ach for  such  an  enterprise.  A violent  storm,  com- 
ing up  toward  nightfall,  persuaded  them  to  delay 
the  attack  till  next  day,  and  by  that  time  it  had 
become  apparent  to  all  that  the  American  works, 
continually  growing,  had  become  impregnable. 
Percy’s  orders  were  accordingly  countermanded, 
and  it  was  decided  to  abandon  the  town  immedi- 
ately. It  was  the  sixth  anniversary  of  the  day  on 
which  Samuel  Adams  had  overawed  Hutchinson, 
and  forced  him  to  withdraw  his  two  British  regi- 
ments from  Boston.  The  work  then  begun  was 
now  consummated  by  Washington,  and  from  that 
time  forth  the  deliverance  of  Massachusetts  was 
complete.  Howe  caused  it  at  once  to  be  known 
among  the  citizens  that  he  was  about  to 
evacuate  Boston,  but  he  threatened  to  troops  evacu. 

ate  Boston, 

lay  the  town  in  ashes  if  his  troops  should  March  17, 
be  fired  on.  The  selectmen  conveyed 
due  information  of  all  this  to  Washington,  who 
accordingly,  secure  in  the  achievement  of  his  pur- 
pose, allowed  the  enemy  to  depart  in  peace.  By 
the  17th,  the  eight  thousand  troops  were  all  on 
board  their  ships,  and,  taking  with  them  all  the 
Tory  citizens,  some  nine  hundred  in  number,  they 
sailed  away  for  Halifax.  Their  space  did  not 
permit  them  to  carry  away  their  heavy  arms,  and 


172 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


their  retreat,  slow  as  it  was,  bore  marks  of  hurry 
and  confusion.  In  taking  possession  of  the  town, 
Washington  captured  more  than  two  hundred  ser- 
viceable cannon,  ten  times  more  powder  and  ball 
than  his  army  had  ever  seen  before,  and  an  im- 
mense quantity  of  muskets,  gun-carriages,  and  mil- 
itary stores  of  every  sort.  Thus  was  New  England 
set  free  by  a single  brilliant  stroke,  with  very 
slight  injury  to  private  property,  and  with  a total 
loss  of  not  more  than  twenty  lives. 

The  time  was  now  fairly  ripe  for  the  colonies  to 
declare  themselves  independent  of  Great  Britain. 
The  idea  of  a separation  from  the  mother-country, 
which  in  the  autumn  had  found  but  few  supporters, 
grew  in  favour  day  by  day  through  the  winter  and 
spring.  The  incongruousness  of  the  present  situa- 
A provisional  tion  was  well  typified  by  the  flag  which 
flag‘  W ashington  flung  to  the  breeze  on  New 

Year’s  Day  at  Cambridge,  which  was  made  up  of 
thirteen  stripes,  to  represent  the  United  Colonies, 
but  which  retained  the  cross  of  St.  George  in  the 
corner.  Thus  far,  said  Benjamin  Harrison,  they 
had  contrived  to  “ hobble  along  under  a fatal  at- 
tachment to  Great  Britain,”  but  the  time  had  come 
when  one  must  consider  the  welfare  of  one’s  own 
country  first  of  all.  As  Samuel  Adams  said,  their 
petitions  had  not  been  heard,  and  yet  had  been 
Effect  of  the  answered  by  armies  and  fleets,  and  by 
myrmidons  hired  from  abroad.  Noth- 
ing had  made  a greater  impression  upon 
the  American  people  than  this  hiring  of  German 
troops.  It  went  farther  than  any  other  single 
cause  to  ripen  their  minds  for  the  declaration  of 


hiring  of 
“ myrmi- 
dons.” 


INDEPENDENCE. 


173 


independence.  Many  now  began  to  agree  with 
the  Massachusetts  statesman ; and  while  public 
opinion  was  in  this  malleable  condition,  there  ap- 
peared a pamphlet  which  wrought  a prodigious  ef- 
fect upon  the  people,  mainly  because  it  gave  terse 
and  vigorous  expression  to  views  which  every  one 
had  already  more  than  half  formed  for  himself. 

Thomas  Paine  had  come  over  to  America  in  De- 
cember, 1774,  and  through  the  favour  of  Franklin 
had  secured  employment  as  editor  of  the  “ Pennsyl- 
vania Magazine.”  He  was  by  nature  a dissenter 
and  a revolutionist  to  the  marrow  of  his  bones. 
Full  of  the  generous  though  often  blind  enthu- 
siasm of  the  eighteenth  century  for  the  Thomas 
“ rights  of  man,”  he  was  no  respecter  of  Paine> 
the  established  order,  whether  in  church  or  state. 
To  him  the  church  and  its  doctrines  meant  slavish 
superstition,  and  the  state  meant  tyranny.  Of  crude 
and  undisciplined  mind,  and  quite  devoid  of  schol- 
arship, yet  endowed  with  native  acuteness  and  sa- 
gacity, and  with  no  mean  power  of  expressing 
himself,  Paine  succeeded  in  making  everybody 
read  what  he  wrote,  and  achieved  a popular  repu- 
tation out  of  all  proportion  to  his  real  merit. 
Among  devout  American  families  his  name  is  still 
a name  of  horror  and  opprobrium,  and  uneducated 
freethinkers  still  build  lecture-halls  in  honour  of  his 
memory,  and  celebrate  the  anniversary  of  his  birth- 
day, with  speeches  full  of  dismal  platitudes.  The 
“ Age  of  Reason,”  which  was  the  cause  of  all  this 
singular  blessing  and  banning,  contains,  amid  much 
crude  argument,  some  sound  and  sensible  criticism, 
Guch  as  is  often  far  exceeded  in  boldness  in  the 


174 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


books  and  sermons  of  Unitarian  and  Episcopalian 
divines  of  the  present  day ; but  its  tone  is  coarse 
and  dull,  and  with  the  improvement  of  popular 
education  it  is  fast  sinking  into  complete  and  de- 
served oblivion.  There  are  times,  however,  when 
such  caustic  pamphleteers  as  Thomas  Paine  have 
their  uses.  There  are  times  when  they  can  bring 
about  results  which  are  not  so  easily  achieved  by 
men  of  finer  mould  and  more  subtle  intelligence. 
It  was  at  just  such  a time,  in  January,  1776,  that 
“Common  Paine  published  his  pamphlet,  “Com- 

Sense.”  mon  gens^”  on  the  suggestion  of  Ben- 

jamin Rush,  and  with  the  approval  of  Franklin 
and  of  Samuel  Adams.  The  pamphlet  is  full  of 
scurrilous  abuse  of  the  English  people,  and  resorts 
to  such  stupid  arguments  as  the  denial  of  the  Eng- 
lish origin  of  the  Americans.  Not  one  third  of 
the  people,  even  of  Pennsylvania,  are  of  English 
descent,  argues  Paine,  as  if  Pennsylvania  had 
been  preeminent  among  the  colonies  for  its 
English  blood,  and  not,  as  in  reality,  perhaps  the 
least  English  of  all  the  thirteen  save  New  York. 
But  along  with  all  this  stuff  there  was  a sensible 
and  striking  statement  of  the  practical  state  of  the 
case  between  England  and  the  colonies.  The  rea- 
sons were  shrewdly  and  vividly  set  forth  for 
looking  upon  reconciliation  as  hopeless,  and  for 
seizing  the  present  moment  to  declare  to  the  world 
what  the  logic  of  events  was  already  fast  making 
an  accomplished  fact.  Only  thus,  it  was  urged, 
could  the  States  of  America  pursue  a coherent  and 
well-defined  policy,  and  preserve  their  dignity  in 
the  eyes  of  the  world. 


INDEPENDENCE. 


175 


It  was  difficult  for  the  printers,  with  the  clumsy 
presses  of  that  day,  to  bring  out  copies  of  “ Common 
Sense  ” fast  enough  to  meet  the  demand  for  it. 
More  than  a hundred  thousand  copies  were  speedily 
sold,  and  it  carried  conviction  wherever  it  went. 
At  the  same  time,  Parliament  did  its  best  to  rein- 
force the  argument  by  passing  an  act  to  close  all 
American  ports,  and  authorize  the  confiscation  of 
all  American  ships  and  cargoes,  as  well  as  of  such 
neutral  vessels  as  might  dare  to  trade  with  this 
proscribed  people.  And,  as  if  this  were  not  quite 
enough,  a clause  was  added  by  which  British  com- 
manders on  the  high  seas  were  directed  to  impress 
the  crews  of  such  American  ships  as 
they  might  meet,  and  to  compel  them, 
under  penalty  of  death,  to  enter  the  ser-  £ulinmafc10118* 
vice  against  their  fellow-countrymen.  In  reply  to 
this  edict,  Congress,  in  March,  ordered  the  ports 
of  America  to  be  thrown  open  to  all  nations ; it 
issued  letters  of  marque,  and  it  advised  all  the  col- 
onies to  disarm  such  Tories  as  should  refuse  to  con- 
tribute to  the  common  defence.  These  measures, 
as  Franklin  said,  were  virtually  a declaration  of 
war  against  Great  Britain.  But  before  taking  the 
last  irrevocable  step,  the  prudent  Congress  waited 
for  instructions  from  every  one  of  the  colonies. 

The  first  colony  to  take  decisive  action  in  behalf 
of  independence  was  North  Carolina,  a common- 
wealth in  which  the  king  had  supposed  the  outlook 
to  be  especially  favourable  for  the  loyalist  party. 
Recovered  in  some  measure  from  the  turbulence 
of  its  earlier  days,  North  Carolina  was  fast  becom- 
ing a prosperous  community  of  small  planters, 


176 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


and  its  population  had  increased  so  rapidly  that 
it  now  ranked  fourth  among  the  colonies,  imme- 
diately after  Pennsylvania.  Since  the  overthrow 
of  the  Pretender  at  Culloden  there  had  been  a 
great  immigration  of  sturdy  Scots  from 
ja  North  the  western  Highlands,  in  which  the 

clans  of  Macdonald  and  Macleod  were 
especially  represented.  The  celebrated  Flora  Mac- 
donald herself,  the  romantic  woman  who  saved 
Charles  Edward  in  1746,  had  lately  come  over  here 
and  settled  at  Kingsborough  with  Allan  Macdon- 
ald, her  husband.  These  Scottish  immigrants  also 
helped  to  colonize  the  upland  regions  of  South 
Carolina  and  Georgia,  and  they  have  powerfully 
affected  the  race  composition  of  the  Southern  peo- 
ple, forming  an  ancestry  of  which  their  descendants 
may  well  be  proud.  Though  these  Highland  clans- 
men had  taken  part  in  the  Stuart  insurrection,  they 
had  become  loyal  enough  to  the  government  of 
George  III.,  and  it  was  now  hoped  that  with  their 
aid  the  colonies  might  be  firmly  secured,  and  its 
neighbours  on  either  side  overawed.  To  this  end, 
in  January,  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  taking 
with  him  2,000  troops,  left  Boston  and 
sailed  for  the  Cape  Fear  river,  while  a 
force  of  seven  regiments  and  ten  ships-of-war,  un- 
der Sir  Peter  Parker,  was  ordered  from  Ireland  to 
cooperate  with  him.  At  the  same  time,  Martin, 
the  royal  governor,  who  for  safety  had  retired  on 
board  a British  ship,  carried  on  negotiations  with 
the  Highlanders,  until  a force  of  1,600  men  was 
raised,  and,  under  command  of  Donald  Macdonald, 
inarched  down  toward  the  coast  to  welcome  tho 


Clinton  sailB 
for  tho 
Carolinas. 


INDEPENDENCE. 


177 


arrival  of  Clinton.  But  North  Carolina  had  its 
minute-men  as  well  as  Massachusetts,  and  no 
sooner  was  this  movement  perceived  than  Colonel 
Richard  Caswell,  with  1,000  militia,  Thefightat 
took  up  a strong  position  at  the  bridge  creek,8 
over  Moore’s  Creek,  which  Macdonald  Feb-27>1776* 
was  about  to  pass  on  his  way  to  the  coast.  After 
a sharp  fight  of  a half  hour’s  duration  the  Scots 
were  seized  with  panic,  and  were  utterly  routed. 
Nine  hundred  prisoners,  2,000  stand  of  arms, 
and  £15,000  in  gold  were  the  trophies  of  Cas- 
well’s victory.  The  Scottish  commander  and  his 
kinsman,  the  husband  of  Flora  Macdonald,  were 
taken  and  lodged  in  jail,  and  thus  ended  the  sway 
of  George  III.  over  North  Carolina.  The  effect 
of  the  victory  was  as  contagious  as  that  of  Lexing- 
ton had  been  in  New  England.  Within  ten  days 
10,000  militia  were  ready  to  withstand  the  enemy, 
so  that  Clinton,  on  his  arrival,  decided  not  to  land, 
and  stayed  cruising  about  Albemarle  Sound,  wait- 
ing for  the  fleet  under  Parker,  which  did  not  ap- 
pear on  the  scene  until  May.  A provincial  con- 
gress was  forthwith  assembled,  and  instructions 
were  sent  to  the  North  Carolina  delegates  in  the 
Continental  Congress,  empowering  them  “ to  con- 
cur with  the  delegates  in  the  other  col-  „ 

# North  Carolina 

onies  in  declaring  independency  and  declares  for 

° « independence. 

forming  foreign  alliances,  reserving  to 

the  colony  the  sole  and  exclusive  right  of  forming 

a constitution  and  laws  for  it.” 

At  the  same  time  that  these  things  were  taking 
place,  the  colony  of  South  Carolina  was  framing 
for  itself  a new  government,  and  on  the  23d  of 


178  THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 

March,  without  directly  alluding  to  independence, 
Action  of  ^ empowered  its  delegates  to  concur  in 
South  Carolina  any  measure  which  might  be  deemed 

and  Georgia.  J ° 

essential  to  the  welfare  of  America.  In 
Georgia  the  provincial  congress,  in  choosing  a new 
set  of  delegates  to  Philadelphia,  authorized  them 
to  “ join  in  any  measure  which  they  might  think 
calculated  for  the  common  good.” 

In  Virginia  the  party  in  favour  of  independence 
had  been  in  the  minority,  until,  in  November, 
1775,  the  royal  governor,  Lord  Dunmore,  had  is- 
sued a proclamation,  offering  freedom  to  all  such 
negroes  and  indented  white  servants  as  might  enlist 
, for  the  purpose  of  “ reducing  the  colony 

Virginia : Lord  A A ° f 

Dunmore’s  to  a proper  sense  of  its  duty.”  This 

proclamation.  -1  1 J 

measure  Lord  Dunmore  hoped  would 
“oblige  the  rebels  to  disperse,  in  order  to  take 
care  of  their  families  and  property.”  But  the 
object  was  not  attained.  The  relations  between 
master  and  slave  in  Virginia  were  so  pleasant  that 
the  offer  of  freedom  fell  upon  dull,  uninterested 
ears.  With  light  work  and  generous  fare,  the 
condition  of  the  Virginia  negro  was  a happy  one. 
The  time  had  not  yet  come  when  he  was  liable  to 
be  torn  from  wife  and  children,  to  die  of  hardship 
in  the  cotton-fields  and  rice-swamps  of  the  far 
South.  He  was  proud  of  his  connection  with  his 
master’s  estate  and  family,  and  had  nothing  to 
gain  by  rebellion.  As  for  the  indented  white  ser- 
vants, the  governor’s  proposal  to  them  was  of 
about  as  much  consequence  as  a proclamation  of 
Napoleon’s  would  have  been  if,  in  1805,  he  had 
offered  to  set  free  the  prisoners  in  Newgate  on 


INDEPENDENCE. 


1T9 


condition  of  their  helping  him  to  invade  England. 
But,  impotent  as  this  measure  of  Lord  Dunmore’s 
was,  it  served  to  enrage  the  people  of  Virginia, 
setting  their  minds  irretrievably  against  the  king 
and  his  cause.  During  the  month  of  November, 
hearing  that  a party  of  “ rebels  ” were  on  their 
way  from  North  Carolina  to  take  possession  of 
Norfolk,  Lord  Dun  more  built  a rude  fort  at  the 
Great  Bridge  over  Elizabeth  river,  which  com- 
manded the  southern  approach  to  the  town.  At 
that  time,  Norfolk,  with  about  9,000  inhabitants, 
was  the  principal  town  in  Virginia,  and  the  com- 
mercial centre  of  the  colony.  The  loyalist  party, 
represented  chiefly  by  Scottish  merchants,  was  so 
strong  there  and  so  violent  that  many  of  the  native 
Virginia  families,  finding  it  uncomfortable  to  stay 
in  their  homes,  had  gone  away  into  the 
country.  The  patriots,  roused  to  anger  the  Great 
by  Dunmore’s  proclamation,  now  re-  burnfngoT 
solved  to  capture  Norfolk,  and  a party 
of  sharpshooters,  with  whom  the  illustrious  John 
Marshall  served  as  lieutenant,  occupied  the  bank 
of  Elizabeth  river,  opposite  Dunmore’s  fort.  On 
the  9th  of  December,  after  a sharp  fight  of  fifteen 
minutes,  in  which  Dunmore’s  regulars  lost  sixty- 
one  men,  while  not  a single  Virginian  was  slain, 
the  fort  was  hastily  abandoned,  and  the  road  to 
Norfolk  was  laid  open  for  the  patriots.  A few 
days  later  the  Virginians  took  possession  of  their 
town,  while  Dunmore  sought  refuge  in  the  Liver- 
pool, ship-of-the-line,  which  had  just  sailed  into 
the  harbour.  On  New  Year’s  Day  the  governor  vin- 
dictively set  fire  to  the  town,  which  he  had  been 


180 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


unable  to  hold  against  its  rightful  owners.  The 
conflagration,  kindled  by  shells  from  the  harbour, 
raged  for  three  days  and  nights,  until  the  whole 
town  was  laid  in  ashes,  and  the  people  were  driven 
to  seek  such  sorry  shelter  as  might  save  them  from 
the  frosts  of  midwinter. 

This  event  went  far  toward  determining  the  at- 
titude of  Virginia.  In  November  the  colony  had 
not  felt  ready  to  comply  with  the  recommendation 
of  Congress,  and  frame  for  herself  a new  govern- 
ment. The  people  were  not  yet  ready  to  sever  the 

links  which  bound  them  to  Great  Brit- 

Virginia  de-  _ . 

dares  for  inde-  am.  But  the  bombardment  of  their 

pendence.  ... 

principal  town  was  an  argument  of 
which  every  one  could  appreciate  the  force  and 
the  meaning.  During  the  winter  and  spring  the 
revolutionary  feeling  waxed  in  strength  daily.  On 
the  6th  of  May,  1776,  a convention  was  chosen  to 
consider  the  question  of  independence.  Mason, 
Henry,  Pendleton,  and  the  illustrious  Madison 
took  part  in  the  discussion,  and  on  the  14th  it  was 
unanimously  voted  to  instruct  the  Virginia  del- 
egates in  Congress  “ to  propose  to  that  respecta- 
ble body  to  declare  the  United  Colonies  free  and 
independent  States,”  and  to  “give  the  assent  of 
the  colony  to  measures  to  form  foreign  alliances 
and  a confederation,  provided  the  power  of  form- 
ing government  for  the  internal  regulations  of 
each  colony  be  left  to  the  colonial  legislatures.” 
At  the  same  time,  it  was  voted  that  the  people  of 
Virginia  should  establish  a new  government  for 
their  commonwealth.  In  the  evening,  when  these 
decisions  had  been  made  known  to  the  people  of 


INDEPENDENCE. 


181 


Williamsburgh,  their  exultation  knew  no  bounds. 
While  the  air  was  musical  with  the  ringing  of 
church-bells,  guns  were  fired,  and  the  British  flag 
was  hauled  down  at  the  State  House,  and  the  thir- 
teen stripes  hoisted  in  its  place. 

This  decisive  movement  of  the  largest  of  the 
colonies  was  hailed  throughout  the  country  with 
eager  delight ; and  from  other  colonies  which  had 
not  yet  committed  themselves  responses  Action  of 
came  quickly.  Rhode  Island,  which  had  and°MaiS>- 
never  parted  with  its  original  charter,  8etts- 
did  not  need  to  form  a new  government,  but  it  had 
already,  on  the  4th  of  May,  omitted  the  king’s 
name  from  its  public  documents  and  sheriff’s  writs, 
and  had  agreed  to  concur  with  any  measures  which 
Congress  might  see  fit  to  adopt  regarding  the  re- 
lations between  England  and  America.  In  the 
course  of  the  month  of  May  town-meetings  were 
held  throughout  Massachusetts  and  it  was  every- 
where unanimously  voted  to  uphold  Congress  in 
the  declaration  of  independence  which  it  was  now 
expected  to  make. 

On  the  15th  of  May,  Congress  adopted  a resolu- 
tion recommending  to  all  the  colonies  to  form  for 
themselves  independent  governments,  and  in  a 
preamble,  written  by  John  Adams,  it  was  de- 
clared that  the  American  people  could  no  longer 
conscientiously  take  oath  to  support  any  govern- 
ment  deriving  its  authority  from  the  Re90hlti0n0f 
Crown ; all  such  governments  must  now  May  15- 
be  suppressed,  since  the  king  had  withdrawn  his 
protection  from  the  inhabitants  of  the  United 
Colonies.  Like  the  famous  preamble  to  Towns- 


182 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


hend’s  bill  of  1767,  this  Adams  preamble  con- 
tained within  itself  the  gist  of  the  whole  matter. 
To  adopt  it  was  virtually  to  cross  the  Rubicon, 
and  it  gave  rise  to  a hot  debate.  James  Duane 
of  New  York  admitted  that  if  the  facts  stated  in 
the  preamble  should  turn  out  to  be  true,  there 
would  not  be  a single  voice  against  independence ; 
but  he  could  not  yet  believe  that  the  American 
petitions  were  not  destined  to  receive  a favour- 
able answer.  “ Why,”  therefore,  “ all  this  haste  ? 
Why  this  urging?  Why  this  driving?”  James 
Wilson  of  Pennsylvania,  one  of  the  ablest  of  all 
the  delegates  in  that  revolutionary  body,  urged 
that  Congress  had  not  yet  received  sufficient  au- 
thority from  the  people  to  justify  it  in  taking  so 
bold  a step.  The  resolution  was  adopted,  how- 
ever, preamble  and  all ; and  now  the  affair  came 
quickly  to  maturity.  “ The  Gordian  knot  is  cut 
at  last ! ” exclaimed  John  Adams.  In  town-meet- 
ing the  people  of  Boston  thus  instructed  their 
delegates  : “ The  whole  United  Colonies  are  upon 
the  verge  of  a glorious  revolution.  We  have  seen 
the  petitions  to  the  king  rejected  with  disdain. 
For  the  prayer  of  peace  he  has  tendered  the 
sword ; for  liberty,  chains  ; for  safety,  death. 
Loyalty  to  him  is  now  treason  to  our  country.  We 
instructions  think  it  absolutely  impracticable  for 
from  Boston,  these  colonies  to  be  ever  again  subject 
to  or  dependent  upon  Great  Britain,  without  en- 
dangering the  very  existence  of  the  state.  Pla- 
cing, however,  unbounded  confidence  in  the  su- 
preme council  of  the  Congress,  we  are  determined 
to  wait,  most  patiently  wait,  till  their  wisdom  shall 


INDEPENDENCE. 


188 


dictate  the  necessity  of  making  a declaration  of 
independence.  In  case  the  Congress  should  think 
it  necessary  for  the  safety  of  the  United  Colonies 
to  declare  them  independent  of  Great  Britain,  the 
inhabitants,  with  their  lives  and  the  remnant  of 
their  fortunes,  will  most  cheerfully  support  them 
in  the  measure.” 

This  dignified  and  temperate  expression  of  pub- 
lic opinion  was  published  in  a Philadelphia  even- 
ing paper,  on  the  8th  of  June.  On  the  preceding 
day,  in  accordance  with  the  instructions  motion 
which  had  come  from  Virginia,  the  fol-  in  Congre88‘ 
lowing  motion  had  been  submitted  to  Congress  by 
Richard  Henry  Lee  : — 

“ That  these  United  Colonies  are,  and  of  right 
ought  to  be,  free  and  independent  States  ; that 
they  are  absolved  from  all  allegiance  to  the  British 
Crown ; and  that  all  political  connection  between 
them  and  the  state  of  Great  Britain  is,  and  ought 
to  be,  totally  dissolved. 

“ That  it  is  expedient  forthwith  to  take  the  most 
effectual  measures  for  forming  foreign  alliances. 

“ That  a plan  of  confederation  be  prepared  and 
transmitted  to  the  respective  colonies,  for  iheir 
consideration  and  approbation.” 

In  these  trying  times  the  two  greatest  colonies, 
Virginia  and  Massachusetts,  had  been  wont  to  go 
hand  in  hand  ; and  the  motion  of  Richard  Henry 
Lee  was  now  promptly  seconded  by  John  Adams. 
It  was  resisted  by  Dickinson  and  Wilson  of  Penn- 
sylvania, and  by  Robert  Livingston  of  New  York, 
on  the  ground  that  public  opinion  in  the  middle 
colonies  was  not  yet  ripe  for  supporting  such  a 


184 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


measure ; at  the  same  time  these  cautious  members 
freely  acknowledged  that  the  lingering  hope  of  an 
amicable  settlement  with  Great  Britain  had  come 
to  be  quite  chimerical.  The  prospect  of  securing 
European  alliances  was  freely  discussed.  The 
Debate  on  supporters  of  the  motion  urged  that  a 
Lee’s  motion.  deciarati0n  of  independence  would  be 
nothing  more  than  the  acknowledgment  of  a fact 
which  existed  already ; and  until  this  fact  should 
be  formally  acknowledged,  it  was  not  to  be  sup- 
posed that  diplomatic  courtesy  would  allow  such 
powers  as  France  and  Spain  to  treat  with  the 
Americans.  On  the  other  hand,  the  opponents  of 
the  motion  argued  that  France  and  Spain  were  not 
likely  to  look  with  favour  upon  the  rise  of  a great 
Protestant  power  in  the  western  hemisphere,  and 
that  nothing  would  be  easier  than  for  these  nations 
to  make  a bargain  with  England,  whereby  Canada 
might  be  restored  to  France  and  Florida  to  Spain, 
in  return  for  military  aid  in  putting  down  the  re- 
bellious colonies.  The  result  of  the  whole  discus- 
sion was  decidedly  in  favour  of  a declaration  of  in- 
dependence ; but  to  avoid  all  appearance  of  undue 
haste,  it  was  decided,  on  the  motion  of  Edward 
Rutledge  of  South  Carolina,  to  postpone  the  ques- 
tion for  three  weeks,  and  invite  the  judgment  of 
those  colonies  which  had  not  yet  declared  them- 
selves. 

Under  these  circumstances,  the  several  colonies 

acted  with  a promptness  that  outstripped 

Connecticut  . 

and  New  the  expectations  of  Congress.  Connecti- 

Hampshire.  1 ° 

cut  had  no  need  of  a new  government, 
for,  like  Rhode  Island,  she  had  always  kept  the 


INDEPENDENCE. 


185 


charter  obtained  from  Lord  Clarendon  in  1662, 
she  had  always  chosen  her  own  governor,  and  had 
always  been  virtually  independent  of  Great  Brit- 
ain. Nothing  now  was  necessary  but  to  omit  the 
king’s  name  from  legal  documents  and  commercial 
papers,  and  to  instruct  her  delegates  in  Congress 
to  support  Lee’s  motion ; and  these  things  were 
done  by  the  Connecticut  legislature  on  the  14th  of 
June.  The  very  next  day,  New  Hampshire,  which 
had  formed  a new  government  as  long  ago  as  J an- 
uary,  joined  Connecticut  in  declaring  for  indepen- 
dence. 

In  New  Jersey  there  was  a sharp  dispute.  The 
royal  governor,  William  Franklin,  had  New  Jer_ 
a strong  party  in  the  colony ; and  the  8ey' 
assembly  had  lately  instructed  its  delegates  to 
vote  against  independence,  and  had  resolved  to 
send  a separate  petition  to  the  king.  Against  so 
rash  and  dangerous  a step,  Dickinson,  Jay,  and 
Wythe  were  sent  by  Congress  to  remonstrate  ; and 
as  the  result  of  their  intercession,  the  assembly, 
which  yielded,  was  summarily  prorogued  by  the 
governor.  A provincial  congress  was  at  once 
chosen  in  its  stead.  On  the  16th  of  June,  the 
governor  was  arrested  and  sent  to  Connecticut  for 
safe-keeping ; on  the  21st,  it  was  voted  to  frame 
a new  government ; and  on  the  22d,  a new  set  of 
delegates  were  elected  to  Congress,  with  instruc- 
tions to  support  the  declaration  of  independence. 

In  Pennsylvania  there  was  hot  discussion,  for  the 
whole  strength  of  the  proprietary  govern-  Permgylvania 
ment  was  thrown  into  the  scale  against  and  Delawara- 
independence.  Among  the  Quakers,  too,  there 


186 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


was  a strong  disposition  to  avoid  an  armed  conflict, 
on  any  terms.  A little  while  before,  they  had  held 
a convention,  in  which  it  was  resolved  that  “ the 
setting  up  and  putting  down  kings  and  govern- 
ments is  God’s  peculiar  prerogative,  for  causes 
best  known  to  himself,  and  that  it  is  not  our  busi- 
ness to  have  any  hand  or  contrivance  therein ; nor 
to  be  busybodies  above  our  station,  much  less  to 
plot  and  contrive  the  ruin  or  overturn  of  any  of 
them,  but  to  pray  for  the  king  and  safety  of  our 
nation  and  good  of  all  men ; that  we  may  lead  a 
peaceable  and  quiet  life  in  all  goodness  and  hon- 
esty, under  the  government  which  God  is  pleased 
to  set  over  us.  May  we,  therefore,  firmly  unite 
in  the  abhorrence  of  all  such  writings  and  meas- 
ures as  evidence  a desire  and  design  to  break  off 
a happy  connection  we  have  hitherto  enjoyed  with 
the  kingdom  of  Great  Britain,  and  our  just  and 
necessary  subordination  to  the  king  and  those  who 
are  lawfully  placed  in  authority  under  him.”  This 
view  of  the  case  soon  met  with  a pithy  rejoinder 
from  Samuel  Adams,  who,  with  a quaint  use  of 
historical  examples,  proved  that,  as  the  rise  of 
kings  and  empires  is  part  of  God’s  special  pre- 
rogative, the  time  had  now  come,  in  the  course  of 
divine  providence,  for  the  setting  up  of  an  inde- 
pendent empire  in  the  western  hemisphere.  Six 
months  ago,  the  provincial  assembly  had  instructed 
its  delegates  to  oppose  independence ; but  on  the 
20th  of  May  a great  meeting  was  held  at  the  State 
House,  at  which  more  than  seven  thousand  people 
were  present,  and  it  was  unanimously  resolved 
that  this  act  of  the  assembly  “ had  the  dangerous 


INDEPENDENCE. 


18? 


tendency  to  withdraw  this  province  from  that 
happy  union  with  the  other  colonies  which  we 
consider  both  our  glory  and  our  protection.”  The 
effect  of  this  resolution  was  so  great  that  on  the 
18th  of  June  a convention  was  held  to  decide  on 
the  question  of  independence ; and  after  six  days 
of  discussion,  it  was  voted  that  a separation  from 
Great  Britain  was  desirable,  provided  only  that, 
under  the  new  federal  government,  each  state 
should  be  left  to  regulate  its  own  internal  affairs. 
On  the  14th  of  June,  a similar  action  had  been 
taken  by  Delaware. 

In  Maryland  there  was  little  reason  why  the 
people  should  wish  for  a change  of  government, 
save  through  their  honourable  sympathy  with  the 
general  interests  of  the  United  Colonies.  Not 
only  was  the  proprietary  government  deeply  rooted 
in  the  affections  of  the  people,  but  Robert  Eden, 
the  governor  holding  office  at  this  particular  time, 
was  greatly  loved  and  respected.  Maryland  had 
not  been  insulted  by  the  presence  of 
troops.  She  had  not  seen  her  citizens 
shot  down  in  cold  blood  like  Massachusetts,  or  her 
chief  city  laid  in  ashes  like  Virginia  ; nor  had  she 
been  threatened  with  invasion  and  forced  to  fight 
in  her  own  defence  like  North  Carolina.  Her  di- 
rect grievances  were  few  and  light,  and  even  so 
late  as  the  21st  of  May,  she  had  protested  against 
any  action  which  might  lead  to  the  separation  of 
the  colonies  from  England.  But  when,  in  June, 
her  great  leaders*  Samuel  Chase  and  Charles  Car- 
roll  of  Carrollton,  determined  to  “ take  the  sense 
of  the  people,”  a series  of  county  meetings  were 


188 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION . 


held,  and  it  was  unanimously  voted  that  “ the  true 
interests  and  substantial  happiness  of  the  United 
Colonies  in  general,  and  this  in  particular,  are 
inseparably  interwoven  and  linked  together.”  As 
soon  as  the  colony  had  taken  its  stand  upon  this 
broad  and  generous  principle,  the  governor  em- 
barked on  a British  man-of-war  before  Annapolis, 
bearing  with  him  the  kindly  regrets  and  adieus  of 
the  people,  and  on  the  28th  of  June  the  delegates 
in  Congress  were  duly  authorized  to  concur  in  a 
declaration  of  independence. 

Peaceful  Maryland  was  thus  the  twelfth  colony 
which  formally  committed  itself  to  the  cause  of  in- 
dependence, as  turbulent  North  Carolina,  under 
the  stimulus  of  civil  war  and  threatened  invasion, 
had  been  the  first.  Accordingly  on  the  1st  of 
July,  the  day  when  the  motion  of  Richard  Henry 
Lee  was  to  be  taken  up  in  Congress,  unanimous 
instructions  in  favour  of  independence  had  been  re- 
ceived from  every  one  of  the  colonies,  except  New 
The  situation  York.  In  approaching  this  momentous 
m New  York.  qUes^on  New  York  was  beset  by  peculiar 
difficulties.  Not  only  was  the  Tory  party  unusually 
strong  there,  for  reasons  already  stated,  but  the 
risks  involved  in  a revolutionary  policy  were  greater 
than  anywhere  else.  From  its  commanding  mil- 
itary position,  it  was  clear  that  the  British  would 
direct  their  main  efforts  toward  the  conquest  of  this 
central  colony ; and  while  on  the  one  hand  the 
broad,  deep  waters  about  Manhattan  Island 
afforded  an  easy  entrance  for  their  resistless  fleet, 
on  the  other  hand  the  failure  of  the  Canadian  ex- 
pedition had  laid  the  whole  country  open  to  inva- 


INDEPENDENCE. 


189 


sion  from  the  north,  and  the  bloodthirsty  warriors 
of  the  Long  House  were  not  likely  to  let  slip 
so  excellent  an  opportunity  for  gathering  scalps 
from  the  exposed  settlements  on  the  frontier.  Not 
only  was  it  probable,  for  these  reasons,  that  New 
York  would  suffer  more  than  any  other  colony 
from  the  worst  horrors  of  war,  but  as  a commercial 
state  with  only  a single  seaport,  the  very  sources 
of  her  life  would  be  threatened  should  the  British 
once  gain  a foothold  upon  Manhattan  Island.  The 
fleet  of  Lord  Howe  was  daily  expected  in  the  har- 
bour, and  it  was  known  that  the  army  which  had 
been  ousted  from  Boston,  now  largely  reinforced, 
was  on  its  way  from  Halifax  to  undertake  the  cap- 
ture of  the  city  of  New  York.  To  guard  against 
this  expected  danger,  Washington  had  some  weeks 
since  moved  his  army  thither  from  Boston ; but 
his  whole  effective  force  did  not  exceed  eight  thou- 
sand men,  and  with  these  he  was  obliged  to  garri- 
son points  so  far  apart  as  King’s  Bridge,  Paulus 
Hook,  Governor’s  Island,  and  Brooklyn  Heights. 
The  position  was  far  less  secure  than  it  had  been 
about  Boston,  for  British  ships  could  here  come  up 
the  Hudson  and  East  rivers,  and  interpose  between 
these  isolated  detachments.  As  for  Staten  Island, 
Washington  had  not  troops  enough  to  occupy  it 
at  all,  so  that  when  General  Howe  arrived,  on  the 
28th  of  June,  he  was  allowed  to  land  there  without 
opposition.  It  was  a bitter  thing  for  Washington 
to  be  obliged  to  permit  this,  but  there  was  no  help 
for  it.  Not  only  in  numbers,  but  in  equipment, 
Washington’s  force  was  utterly  inadequate  to  the 
important  task  assigned  it,  and  Congress  had  done 


190 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


nothing  to  increase  its  efficiency  beyond  ordering 
a levy  of  twenty-five  thousand  militia  from  New 
England  and  the  middle  colonies,  to  serve  for  six 
months  only. 

Under  these  circumstances,  the  military  outlook, 
in  case  the  war  were  to  go  on,  was  certainly  not 
encouraging,  and  the  people  of  New  York  might 
well  be  excused  for  some  tardiness  in  committing 
themselves  irrevocably  on  the  question  of  indepen- 
dence, especially  as  it  was  generally  understood  that 
Lord  Howe  was  coming  armed  with  plenary  au- 
thority to  negotiate  with  the  American  people.  To 
all  the  other  dangers  of  the  situation 

The  Tryon  ° 

plot,  June,  there  was  added  that  of  treachery  in  the 
camp.  Governor  Tryon,  like  so  many 
of  the  royal  governors  that  year,  had  taken  refuge 
on  shipboard,  whence  he  schemed  and  plotted  with 
his  friends  on  shore.  A plan  was  devised  for  blow- 
ing up  the  magazines  and  seizing  W ashington,  who 
was  either  to  be  murdered  or  carried  on  board  ship 
to  be  tried  for  treason,  according  as  the  occasion 
might  suggest.  The  conspiracy  was  discovered  in 
good  time ; the  mayor  of  New  York,  convicted  of 
correspondence  with  Tryon,  was  thrown  into  jail, 
and  one  of  Washington’s  own  guard,  who  had 
been  bribed  to  aid  the  nefarious  scheme,  was  sum- 
marily hanged  in  a field  near  the  Bowery.  Such 
a discovery  as  this  served  to  throw  discredit  upon 
the  Tory  party.  The  patriots  took  a bolder  stand 
than  ever,  but  when  the  1st  of  July  came  it  found 
the  discussion  still  going  on,  and  the  New  York 
delegates  in  Congress  were  still  without  instruc* 
tions. 


INDEPENDENCE. 


191 


On  the  1st  of  July  Congress  resolved  itself  into 
a committee  of  the  whole,  to  “ take  into  considera- 
tion the  resolution  respecting  independency.”  As 
Richard  Henry  Lee  was  absent,  John  Adams,  who 
had  seconded  the  motion,  was  called  upon  to  de- 
fend it,  which  he  did  in  a powerful  speech.  He 
was  ably  opposed  by  John  Dickinson,  who  urged 
that  the  country  ought  not  to  be  rashly  committed 
to  a position,  to  recede  from  which  would  be  infa- 
mous, while  to  persist  in  it  might  entail 

, . . ait  , • p • i Final  debate 

certain  rum.  A declaration  ot  indepen-  on  Lee’s 
dence  would  not  strengthen  the  resources 
of  the  country  by  a single  regiment  or  a single  cask 
of  powder,  while  it  would  shut  the  door  upon  all 
hope  of  accommodation  with  Great  Britain.  And 
as  to  the  prospect  of  an  alliance  with  France  and 
Spain,  would  it  not  be  well  to  obtain  some  definite 
assurances  from  these  powers  before  proceeding  to 
extremities?  Besides  all  this,  argued  Dickinson, 
the  terms  of  confederation  among  the  colonies  were 
still  unsettled,  and  any  declaration  of  indepen- 
dence, to  have  due  weight  with  the  world,  ought  to 
be  preceded  by  the  establishment  of  a federal  gov- 
ernment. The  boundaries  of  the  several  colonies 
ought  first  to  be  fixed,  and  their  respective  rights 
mutually  guaranteed ; and  the  public  lands  ought 
also  to  be  solemnly  appropriated  for  the  common 
benefit.  Then,  the  orator  concluded,  “ when  things 
shall  have  been  thus  deliberately  rendered  firm  at 
home  and  favourable  abroad,  — then  let  America, 
attollens  humeris  famam  etfata  nepotum , bearing 
up  her  glory  and  the  destiny  of  her  descendants, 
advance  with  majestic  steps,  and  assume  her  station 
among  the  sovereigns  of  the  world.” 


192  THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION . 


That  there  was  great  weight  in  some  of  these 
considerations  was  shown  only  too  plainly  by  sub- 
sequent events.  But  the  argument  as  a whole  was 
open  to  the  fatal  objection  that  if  the  American 
people  were  to  wait  for  all  these  great  questions  to 
be  settled  before  taking  a decisive  step,  they  would 
never  be  able  to  take  a decisive  step  at  all.  The 
wise  statesman  regards  half  a loaf  as  better  than 
no  bread.  Independent  action  on  the  part  of  all 
the  colonies  except  New  York  had  now  become  an 
accomplished  fact.  All  were  really  in  rebellion, 
and  their  cause  could  not  fail  to  gain  in  dignity 
and  strength  by  announcing  itself  to  the  world  in 
its  true  character.  Such  was  now  the  general  feel- 
ing of  the  committee.  When  the  question  was 
put  to  vote,  the  New  York  delegates  were  excused, 
as  they  had  no  sufficient  instructions.  Of  the  three 
delegates  from  Delaware,  one  was  absent,  one  voted 
yea,  and  one  nay,  so  that  the  vote  of  the  colony 
vote  on  Lee’s  was  lost.  Pennsylvania  declared  in  the 
negative  by  four  votes  against  three. 
South  Carolina  also  declared  in  the  negative,  but 
with  the  intimation  from  Edward  Rutledge  that  it 
might  not  unlikely  reverse  its  vote,  in  deference  to 
the  majority.  The  other  nine  colonies  all  voted  in 
the  affirmative,  and  the  resolution  was  reported  as 
agreed  to  by  a two  thirds  vote.  On  the  next  day, 
when  the  vote  was  formally  taken  in  regular  ses- 
sion of  Congress,  the  Delaware  members  were  all 
present,  and  the  affirmative  vote  of  that  colony  was 
secured ; Dickinson  and  Morris  stayed  away,  thus 
reversing  the  vote  of  Pennsylvania  ; and  the  South 
Carolina  members  changed  for  the  sake  of  unan« 
imity. 


INDEPENDENCE. 


193 


Thus  was  the  Declaration  of  Independence  at 
last  resolved  upon,  by  the  unanimous  vote  of 
twelve  colonies,  on  the  2d  of  July,  1776  ; and  this 
work  having  been  done,  Congress  at  once  went 
into  committee  of  the  whole,  to  consider  the  form 
of  declaration  which  should  be  adopted.  That  no 
time  might  be  lost  in  disposing  of  this  important 
matter,  a committee  had  already  been  selected 
three  weeks  before,  at  the  time  of  Lee’s  motion, 
to  draw  up  a paper  which  might  be  worthy  of  this 
great  and  solemn  occasion.  Thomas  Jefferson, 
John  Adams,  Benjamin  Franklin,  Roger  Sher- 
man, and  Robert  Livingston  were  the  members  of 
the  committee,  and  J efferson,  as  representing  the 
colony  which  had  introduced  the  resolution  of  in- 
dependence, was  chosen  to  be  the  author  of  the 
Declaration.  J efferson,  then  but  thirty- three  years 
of  age,  was  one  of  the  youngest  delegates  in  Con- 
gress ; but  of  all  the  men  of  that  time,  there  was, 
perhaps,  none  of  wider  culture  or  keener  political 
instincts.  Inheriting  a comfortable  for-  Thomafl  j ff 
tune,  he  had  chosen  the  law  as  his  pro-  80n* 
fession,  but  he  had  always  been  passionately  fond 
of  study  for  its  own  sake,  and  to  a very  wide  read- 
ing in  history  and  in  ancient  and  modern  literature 
he  added  no  mean  proficiency  in  mathematics  and  in 
physical  science.  He  was  skilled  in  horsemanship 
and  other  manly  exercises,  and  in  the  management 
of  rural  affairs ; while  at  the  same  time  he  was 
very  sensitively  and  delicately  organized,  playing 
the  violin  like  a master,  and  giving  other  evidences 
of  rare  musical  talent.  His  temper  was  exceed- 
ingly  placid,  and  his  disposition  was  sweet  and 


194 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


sympathetic.  He  was  deeply  interested  in  all  the 
generous  theories  of  the  eighteenth  century  con- 
cerning the  rights  of  man  and  the  perfectibility 
of  human  nature ; and,  like  most  of  the  contem- 
porary philosophers  whom  he  admired,  he  was  a 
sturdy  foe  to  intolerance  and  priestcraft.  He  was 
in  his  way  a much  more  profound  thinker  than 
Hamilton,  though  he  had  not  such  a constructive 
genius  as  the  latter ; as  a political  leader  he  was 
superior  to  any  other  man  of  his  age ; and  his  warm 
sympathies,  his  almost  feminine  tact,  his  mastery 
of  the  dominant  political  ideas  of  the  time,  and, 
above  all,  his  unbounded  faith  in  the  common  sense 
of  the  people  and  in  their  essential  rectitude  of 
purpose  served  to  give  him  one  of  the  greatest  and 
most  commanding  positions  ever  held  by  any  per- 
sonage in  American  history. 

On  the  evening  of  the  4th  of  July,  1776,  the 
Declaration  of  Independence  was  unanimously 
adopted  by  twelve  colonies,  the  delegation  from 
New  York  still  remaining  unable  to  act.  But 
the  acquiescence  of  that  colony  was  so  generally 
counted  upon  that  there  was  no  drawback  to  the 
exultation  of  the  people.  All  over  the 

Independence  i -r^  i • . , 

declared,  July  country  the  Declaration  was  received 
with  bonfires,  with  the  ringing  of  bells 
and  the  firing  of  guns,  and  with  torchlight  pro- 
cessions. Now  that  the  great  question  was  settled 
there  was  a general  feeling  of  relief.  “ The 
people,”  said  Samuel  Adams,  “ seem  to  recognize 
this  resolution  as  though  it  were  a decree  pro- 
mulgated from  heaven.”  On  the  9th  of  July  it 
Was  formally  adopted  by  New  York,  and  the  sol- 


INDEPENDENCE. 


195 


diers  there  celebrated  the  occasion  by  throwing 
down  the  leaden  statue  of  George  III.  on  the  Bowl- 
ing Green,  and  casting  it  into  bullets. 

Thus,  after  eleven  years  of  irritation,  and  after 
such  temperate  discussion  as  befitted  a free  people, 
the  Americans  had  at  last  entered  upon  the  only 
course  that  could  preserve  their  self-respect,  and 
guarantee  them  in  the  great  part  which  they  had  to 
play  in  the  drama  of  civilization.  For 

, J _ . . . _ _ The  Declara- 

ble dignity,  patience,  and  moderation  tjonwasade- 

with  which  they  had  borne  themselves  pression  of  the 

- 1 . sober  thought 

throughout  these  trying  times,  history  oftheAmeri- 
had  as  yet  scarcely  afforded  a parallel. 

So  extreme  had  been  their  forbearance,  so  great 
their  unwillingness  to  appeal  to  brute  force  while 
there  yet  remained  the  slightest  hope  of  a peaceful 
solution,  that  some  British  historians  have  gone 
quite  astray  in  interpreting  their  conduct.  Be- 
cause statesmen  like  Dickinson  and  communities 
like  Maryland  were  slow  in  believing  that  the  right 
moment  for  a declaration  of  independence  had 
come,  the  preposterous  theory  has  been  suggested 
that  the  American  Revolution  was  the  work  of 
an  unscrupulous  and  desperate  minority,  which, 
through  intrigue  mingled  with  violence,  succeeded 
in  forcing  the  reluctant  majority  to  sanction  its 
measures.  Such  a misconception  has  its  root  in 
an  utter  failure  to  comprehend  the  peculiar  char- 
acter of  American  political  life,  like  the  kindred 
misconception  which  ascribes  the  rebellion  of  the 
colonies  to  a sordid  unwillingness  to  bear  their 
due  share  of  the  expenses  of  the  British  Empire. 
It  is  like  the  misunderstanding  which  saw  an  an- 


196 


TUE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION . 


gry  mob  in  every  town-meeting  of  the  people  of 
Boston,  and  characterized  as  a “ riot  ” every  de- 
liberate expression  of  public  opinion.  No  one  who 
is  familiar  with  the  essential  features  of  American 
political  life  can  for  a moment  suppose  that  the 
Declaration  of  Independence  was  brought  about 
by  any  less  weighty  force  than  the  settled  convic- 
tion of  the  people  that  the  priceless  treasure  of 
self-government  could  be  preserved  by  no  other 
means.  It  was  but  slowly  that  this  unwelcome 
conviction  grew  upon  the  people ; and  owing  to 
local  differences  of  circumstances  it  grew  more 
slowly  in  some  places  than  in  others.  Prescient 
leaders,  too,  like  the  Adamses  and  Franklin  and 
Lee,  made  up  their  minds  sooner  than  other  peo- 
ple. Even  those  conservatives  who  resisted  to 
the  last,  even  such  men  as  John  Dickinson  and 
Robert  Morris,  were  fully  agreed  with  their  op- 
ponents as  to  the  principle  at  issue  between  Great 
Britain  and  America,  and  nothing  would  have 
satisfied  them  short  of  the  total  abandonment  by 
Great  Britain  of  her  pretensions  to  impose  taxes 
and  revoke  charters.  Upon  this  fundamental  point 
there  was  very  little  difference  of  opinion  in 
America.  As  to  the  related  question  of  indepen- 
dence, the  decision,  when  once  reached,  was  every- 
where alike  the  reasonable  result  of  free  and  open 
discussion  ; and  the  best  possible  illustration  of  this 
is  the  fact  that  not  even  in  the  darkest  days  of  the 
war  already  begun  did  any  state  deliberately  pro- 
pose to  reconsider  its  action  in  the  matter.  The 
hand  once  put  to  the  plough,  there  was  no  turning 
back.  As  Judge  Drayton  of  South  Carolina  said 


INDEPENDENCE. 


197 


from  the  bench,  “ A decree  is  now  gone  forth  not 
to  be  recalled,  and  thus  has  suddenly  risen  in  the 
world  a new  empire,  styled  the  United  States  of 
Americao” 


CHAPTER  V. 


FIRST  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE. 


Throughout  a considerable  portion  of  tbe 
country  tbe  news  of  tbe  Declaration  of  Indepen- 
dence was  accompanied  by  tbe  news  of  a brilliant 
success  at  tbe  South.  After  the  defeat  of  Mac- 
donald at  Moore’s  Creek,  and  tbe  sudden  arming 
of  North  Carolina,  Clinton  did  not  venture  to 
land,  but  cruised  about  in  tbe  neighbourhood,  await- 
ing the  arrival  of  Sir  Peter  Parker’s  squadron 
from  Ireland.  Harassed  by  violent  and  contrary 
winds,  Parker  was  three  months  in  making  the 
voyage,  and  it  was  not  until  May  that  he  arrived, 
Lord  corDwai-  bringing  with  him  Lord  Cornwallis. 
^ponthQ8  As  North  Carolina  had  given  such  un- 
scene.  mistakable  evidence  of  its  real  temper, 

it  was  decided  not  to  land  upon  that  coast  for  the 
present,  but  to  go  South  and  capture  Charleston 
and  Savannah.  Lord  William  Campbell,  refugee 
governor  of  South  Carolina,  urged  that  there  was 
a great  loyalist  party  in  that  colony,  which  would 
declare  itself  as  soon  as  the  chief  city  should  be 
in  the  hands  of  the  king’s  troops.  That  there 
would  be  any  serious  difficulty  in  taking  Charles- 
ton occurred  to  no  one.  But  Colonel  Moultrie 
had  thrown  up  on  Sullivan’s  Island,  commanding 
the  harbour,  a fortress  of  palmetto  logs  strength- 


FIRST  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  199 

ened  by  heavy  banks  of  sand,  and  now  held  it  with 
a force  of  twelve  hundred  men,  while  five  thousand 
militia  were  gathered  about  the  town,  under  com- 
mand of  General  Charles  Lee,  who  had  been  sent 
down  to  meet  the  emergency,  but  did  little  more 
than  to  meddle  and  hinder.  In  his  character  of 
trained  European  officer,  Lee  laughed  to  scorn 
Moultrie’s  palmetto  stronghold,  and  would  have 
ordered  him  to  abandon  it,  but  that  he  was  posi- 
tively overruled  by  Rutledge,  president  of  the  pro- 
vincial congress,  who  knew  Moultrie  and  relied 
upon  his  sound  judgment.  The  British  command- 
ers, Clinton  and  Parker,  wasted  three  weeks  in 
discussing  various  plans  of  attack,  while  the  Amer- 
icans, with  spade  and  hatchet,  were  rapidly  barring 
every  approach  to  Charleston,  and  fresh  regiments 
came  pouring  in  to  man  the  new-built  intrench- 
ments.  At  last  Clinton  landed  three 

. . i Battle  of  Fort 

thousand  men  on  a naked  sand- bank,  Moultrie, 
divided  from  Sullivan’s  Island  by  a June  28’ 1776‘ 
short  space  of  shallow  sea,  which  he  thought  could 
be  forded  at  low  tide.  At  the  proper  time  Sir 
Peter  Parker  was  to  open  a lively  fire  from  the 
fleet,  which  it  was  expected  would  knock  down 
the  fort  in  a few  minutes,  while  Clinton,  fording 
the  shoals,  would  drive  out  the  Americans  at  the 
point  of  the  bayonet.  The  shoals,  however,  turned 
out  to  be  seven  feet  deep  at  low  water,  and  the 
task  of  the  infantry  was  reduced  to  a desperate  con- 
flict with  the  swarms  of  mosquitoes,  which  nearly 
drove  them  frantic.  The  battle  thus  became  a 
mere  artillery  duel  between  the  fort  and  the  fleet. 
The  British  fire  was  rapid  and  furious,  but  inef* 


200 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


fective.  Most  of  the  shot  passed  harmlessly  over 
the  low  fortress,  and  those  which  struck  did  no 
harm  to  its  elastic  structure.  The  American  fire 
was  very  slow,  and  few  shots  were  wasted.  The 
cable  of  Parker’s  flagship  was  cut  by  a well-aimed 
ball,  and  the  ship,  swinging  around,  received  a 
raking  fire  which  swept  her  deck  with  terrible 
slaughter.  After  the  fight  had  lasted  ten  hours, 
the  British  retreated  out  of  range.  The  palmetto 
fort  had  suffered  no  serious  injury,  and  only  one 
gun  had  been  silenced.  The  American  loss  in 
killed  and  wounded  was  thirty-seven.  On  the 
other  hand,  Sir  Peter’s  flagship  had  lost  her  main- 
mast and  mizzen-mast,  and  had  some  twenty  shots 
in  her  hull,  so  that  she  was  little  better  than  a 
wreck.  The  British  loss  in  killed  and  wounded 
was  two  hundred  and  five.  Of  their  ten  sail,  only 
one  frigate  remained  seaworthy  at  the  close  of  the 
action.  After  waiting  three  weeks  to  refit,  the 
whole  expedition  sailed  away  for  New  York  to 
cooperate  with  the  Howes.  Charleston  was  saved, 
and  for  more  than  two  years  the  southern  states 
were  freed  from  the  mvader.  In  commemoration 
of  this  brilliant  victory,  and  of  the  novel  strong- 
hold which  had  so  roused  the  mirth  of  the  Euro- 
pean soldier  of  fortune,  the  outpost  on  Sullivan’s 
Island  has  ever  since  been  known  by  the  name  of 
Fort  Moultrie. 

It  was  with  such  tidings  of  good  omen  that  the 
Declaration  of  Independence  was  sent  forth  to  the 
world.  But  it  was  the  last  news  of  victory  that 
for  the  next  six  months  was  to  cheer  the  anxious 
statesmen  assembled  at  Philadelphia.  During  the 


FIRST  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  201 


rest  of  the  summer  and  the  autumn,  disaster  fol- 
lowed upon  disaster,  until  it  might  well  seem  as  if 
fickle  fortune  had  ceased  to  smile  upon  the  cause 
of  liberty.  The  issue  of  the  contest  was  now  cen- 
tred in  New  York.  By  conquering , , 

and  holding  the  line  of  the  Hudson  for  conquering 

° the  Hudson, 

river,  the  British  hoped  to  cut  the  andcuttmg 

7 r the  United 

United  Colonies  in  two,  after  which  it  Colonies  in 

. . _ _ twain. 

was  thought  that  Virginia  and  New 
England,  isolated  from  each  other,  might  be  in- 
duced to  consider  the  error  of  their  ways  and  re- 
pent. Accordingly,  General  Howe  was  to  capture 
the  city  of  New  York,  while  General  Carleton  was 
to  descend  from  Canada,  recapture  Ticonderoga, 
and  take  possession  of  the  upper  waters  of  the 
Hudson,  together  with  the  Mohawk  valley.  Great 
hopes  were  built  upon  the  cooperation  of  the  loyal- 
ists, of  whom  there  was  a greater  number  in  New 
York  than  in  any  other  state,  except  perhaps 
South  Carolina.  It  was  partly  for  this  reason,  as 
we  shall  hereafter  see,  that  these  two  states  suf- 
fered more  actual  misery  from  the  war  than  all 
the  others  put  together.  The  horrors  of  civil  war 
were  to  be  added  to  the  attack  of  the  invader. 
Throughout  the  Mohawk  valley  the  influence  of 
Sir  John  Johnson,  the  Tory  son  of  the  famous 
baronet  of  the  Seven  Years’  War,  was  thought  to 
be  supreme  ; and  it  turned  out  to  be  very  power- 
ful both  with  the  white  population  and  with  the 
Indians.  At  the  other  end  of  the  line,  in  New 
York  city,  the  Tory  element  was  strong,  for  rea« 
sons  already  set  forth.  On  Long  Island,  the 
people  of  Kings  and  Queens  counties,  of  Dutch 


202 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


descent,  were  Tories  almost  to  a man,  while  the 
English  population  of  Suffolk  was  solidly  in  fa- 
vour of  independence.  And  this  instance  of  Long 
Island  was  typical.  From  one  end  of  the  United 
States  to  the  other,  as  might  have  been  expected, 
the  Tory  sentiment  was  strongest  with  the  non- 
English  element  in  the  population. 

Before  beginning  his  attack  on  New  York,  Gen- 
eral Howe  had  to  await  the  arrival  of  his  brother ; 
for  the  ministry  had  resolved  to  try  the  effect  of 
what  seemed  to  them  a “ conciliatory  policy.”  On 
the  12th  of  July  Lord  Howe  arrived  at  Staten  Is- 
land, bringing  with  him  the  “ olive-branch  ” which 
Lord  North  had  promised  to  send  along  with  the 
sword.  This  curious  specimen  of  political  botany 
turned  out  to  consist  of  a gracious  declaration  that 
all  persons  who  should  desist  from  rebellion  and 
lend  their  “ aid  in  restoring  tranquillity  ” would 
receive  full  and  free  pardon  from  their  sovereign 
Lord  Howe’s  l°r(l  the  king.  As  it  would  not  do  to 
toneegotiaSpt  recognize  the  existence  of  Congress, 
tonluS-ing  L°rd.  Howe  inclosed  this  declaration  in 
dany.  a ]etter  addressed  to  “ George  Washing- 
ton, Esq.,”  and  sent  it  up  the  harbour  with  a flag 
of  truce.  But  as  George  Washington,  in  his  ca- 
pacity of  Virginian  landholder  and  American  citi- 
zen, had  no  authority  for  dealing  with  a royal 
commissioner,  he  refused  to  receive  the  letter. 
Colonel  Feed  informed  Lord  Howe’s  messenger 
that  there  was  no  person  in  the  army  with  that  ad- 
dress. The  British  officer  reluctantly  rowed  away, 
but  suddenly,  putting  his  barge  about,  he  came  back 
and  inquired  by  what  title  Washington  should  be 


FIRST  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  203 

properly  addressed.  Colonel  Reed  replied,  “ You 
are  aware,  sir,  of  the  rank  of  General  Washington 
in  our  army  ? ” “ Yes,  sir,  we  are,”  answered  the 

officer ; “I  am  sure  my  Lord  Howe  will  lament 
exceedingly  this  affair,  as  the  letter  is  of  a civil, 
and  not  of  a military  nature.  He  greatly  laments 
that  he  was  not  here  a little  sooner.”  This  re- 
mark was  understood  by  Colonel  Reed  to  refer  to 
the  Declaration  of  Independence,  which  was  then 
but  eight  days  old.  A week  later  Lord  Howe 
sent  Colonel  Patterson,  the  British  adjutant-gen- 
eral, with  a document  now  addressed  to  “ George 
Washington,  Esq.,  etc.,  etc.”  Colonel  Patterson 
begged  for  a personal  interview,  which  was  granted. 
He  was  introduced  to  Washington,  whom  he  de- 
scribes as  a gentleman  of  magnificent  presence  and 
very  handsomely  dressed.  Somewhat  overawed, 
and  beginning  his  remarks  with  “ May  it  please 
your  Excellency,”  Patterson  explained  that  the 
etceteras  on  the  letter  meant  everything.  “ In- 
deed,” said  Washington,  with  a pleasant  smile, 
“ they  might  mean  anything.”  He  declined  to 
take  the  letter,  but  listened  to  Patterson’s  expla- 
nations, and  then  replied  that  he  was  not  author- 
ized to  deal  with  the  matter,  and  could  not  give 
his  lordship  any  encouragement,  as  he  seemed 
empowered  only  to  grant  pardons,  whereas  tho&e 
who  had  committed  no  fault  needed  no  pardons. 
As  Patterson  got  up  to  go,  he  asked  if  his  Excel- 
lency had  no  message  to  send  to  Lord  Howe. 
“ Nothing,”  answered  W ashington,  “ but  my  par- 
ticular compliments.”  Thus  foiled  in  his  attempt 
to  negotiate  with  the  American  commander,  Lord 


204 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


Howe  next  inclosed  his  declaration  in  a circular 
letter  addressed  to  the  royal  governors  of  the  mid- 
dle and  southern  colonies ; but  as  most  of  these 
dignitaries  were  either  in  jail  or  on  board  the  Brit- 
ish fleet,  not  much  was  to  be  expected  from  such 
a mode  of  publication.  The  precious  document 
was  captured  and  sent  to  Congress,  which  deri- 
sively published  it  for  the  amusement  and  instruc- 
tion of  the  people.  It  was  everywhere  greeted 
with  jeers.  “ No  doubt  we  all  need  pardon  from 
Heaven,”  said  Governor  Trumbull  of  Connecticut, 
“ for  our  manifold  sins  and  transgressions ; but 
the  American  who  needs  the  pardon  of  his  Britan- 
nic Majesty  is  yet  to  be  found.”  The  only  serious 
effect  produced  was  the  weakening  of  the  loyalist 
party.  Many  who  had  thus  far  been  held  back 
by  the  hope  that  Lord  Howe’s  intercession  might 
settle  all  the  difficulties  now  came  forward  as 
warm  supporters  of  independence  as  soon  as  it 
became  apparent  that  the  king  had  really  nothing 
to  offer. 

The  olive-branch  having  proved  ineffectual, 
nothing  was  left  but  to  unsheathe  the  sword,  and 
an  interesting  campaign  now  began,  of  which  the 
primary  object  was  to  capture  the  city 

The  military  r J J r J 

SrewYor?  °*  -^ew  *ork  and  compel  Washing- 
ton’s army  to  surrender.  The  British 
army  was  heavily  reinforced  by  the  return  of  Clin- 
ton’s expedition  and  the  arrival  of  11,000  fresk 
troops  from  England  and  Germany.  General 
Howe  had  now  more  than  25,000  men  at  his  dis- 
posal, fully  equipped  and  disciplined  ; while  to 
oppose  him  Washington  had  but  18,000,  many  of 


FIRST  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE. 


205 


them  raw  levies  which  had  just  come  in.  If  the 
American  army  had  consisted  of  such  veterans  as 
Washington  afterwards  led  at  Monmouth,  the  dis- 
parity of  numbers  would  still  have  told  powerfully 
in  favour  of  the  British.  As  it  was,  in  view  of 
the  crudeness  of  his  material,  Washington  could 
hardly  hope  to  do  more  with  his  army  than  to 
make  it  play  the  part  of  a detaining  force.  To 
keep  the  field  in  the  face  of  overwhelming  odds  is 
one  of  the  most  arduous  of  military  problems,  and 
often  calls  for  a higher  order  of  intelligence  than 
that  which  is  displayed  in  the  mere  winning  of  bat- 
tles. Upon  this  problem  Washington  was  now  to 
be  employed  for  six  months  without  respite,  and  it 
was  not  long  before  he  gave  evidence  of  military 
genius  such  as  has  seldom  been  surpassed  in  the 
history  of  modern  warfare.  At  the  outset  the  city 
of  New  York  furnished  the  kernel  of  the  problem. 
Without  control  of  the  water  it  would  be  well-nigh 
impossible  to  hold  the  city.  Still  there  was  a 
chance,  and  it  was  the  part  of  a good  general  to 
take  this  chance,  and  cut  out  as  much  work  as 
possible  for  the  enemy.  The  shore  of  Manhattan 
Island  was  girded  with  small  fbrts  and  redoubts, 
which  Lee  had  erected  in  the  spring  before  his  de- 
parture for  South  Carolina.  The  lower  end  of  the 
island,  along  the  line  of  W all  Street,  was  then  but 
little  more  than  half  its  present  width,  as  several 
lines  of  street  have  since  been  added  upon  both 
sides.  From  Cortlandt  Street  across  to  Paulus 
Hook,  the  width  of  the  Hudson  river  was  not  less 
than  two  miles,  while  the  East  river  near  Fulton 
Ferry  was  nearly  a mile  in  width.  The  city 


206 


THE  AMEBIC  AN  REVOLUTION. 


reached  only  from  the  Battery  as  far  as  Chatham 
Street,  whence  the  Bowery  Lane  ran  northwest- 
wardly to  Bloomingdale  through  a country  smiling 
with  orchards  and  gardens.  Many  of  the  streets 
were  now  barricaded,  and  a strong  line  of  redoubts 
ran  across  from  river  to  river  below  the  side  of 
Canal  Street.  At  the  upper  end  of  the  island, 
and  on  the  Jersey  shore,  were  other  fortresses, 
with  which  we  shall  shortly  have  to  deal,  and  out 
in  the  harbour,  as  a sort  of  watch-tower  from  which 
to  inspect  the  enemy’s  fleet,  a redoubt  had  been 
raised  on  Governor’s  Island,  and  was  commanded 
by  Colonel  Prescott,  with  a party  of  the  men  of 
Bunker  Hill. 

In  order  to  garrison  such  various  positions,  it 
was  necessary  for  Washington  to  scatter  his  18,000 
men  ; and  this  added  much  to  the  difficulty  of  his 
task,  for  Howe  could  at  any  moment  strike  at  al- 
most any  one  of  these  points  with  his  whole  force. 
From  the  nature  of  the  case  the  immense  advan- 
tage of  the  initiative  belonged  entirely  to  Howe. 
But  in  one  quarter,  the  most  important  of  all, 
Washington  had  effected  as  much  concentration  of 
his  troops  as  was  possible.  The  position 

Importance  of  A . 1 , 

Brooklyn  on  Brooklyn  Heights  was  dangerously 
exposed,  but  it  was  absolutely  necessary 
for  the  Americans  to  occupy  it  if  they  were  to  keep 
their  hold  upon  New  York.  This  eminence  com- 
manded New  York  exactly  as  Bunker  Hill  and 
Dorchester  Heights  commanded  Boston.  Greene 
had,  accordingly,  spent  the  summer  in  fortifying 
it,  and  there  9,000  men  — one  half  of  the  army  — « 
were  now  concentrated  under  command  of  Putnam. 


FIRST  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE . 


207 


Upon  this  exposed  position  General  Howe  deter- 
mined to  throw  nearly  the  whole  of  his  force.  Ke 
felt  confident  that  the  capture  or  destruction  of 
half  the  American  army  would  so  discourage  the 
rebels  as  to  make  them  lend  a readier  ear  to  th^ 
overtures  of  that  excellent  peacemaker,  his  brothel 
Accordingly,  on  the  22d  of  August,  General  Howe 
landed  20,000  men  at  Gravesend  Bay.  From  this 
point  the  American  position  was  approachable  by 
four  roads,  two  of  which  crossed  a range  of  densely 
wooded  hills,  and  continued  through  the  villages 
of  Bedford  and  Flatbush.  To  the  left  of  these  the 
Gowanus  road  followed  the  shore  about  the  west- 
ern base  of  the  hills,  while  on  the  right  the  Ja- 
maica road  curved  inland  and  turned  their  eastern 
base. 

The  elaborate  caution  with  which  the  British 
commander  now  proceeded  stands  out  in  striking 
contrast  with  the  temerity  of  his  advance  upon 
Bunker  Hill  in  the  preceding  year.  He  spent  four 
days  in  reconnoitring,  and  then  he  sent  his  brother, 
with  part  of  the  fleet,  to  make  a feint  upon  New 
York,  and  occupy  Washington’s  attention.  Be- 
fore daybreak  of  the  27th,  under  the  cover  of  this 
feint,  the  British  advance  had  been  nearly  com- 
pleted. General  Grant,  with  the  Highland  regi- 
ments, advanced  along  the  coast  road,  where  the 
American  outposts  were  held  by  William  Alexan- 
der of  New  Jersey,  commonly  known  as 

T n i J -t  m i Battle  of  Long 

.Lord  Stirling,  from  a lapsed  bcotch  island,  Aug. 
earldom  to  which  he  had  claimed  the 
title.  The  Hessians,  under  General  von  Heister, 
proceeded  along  the  Bedford  and  Flatbush  roads, 


208 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


which  were  defended  by  Sullivan ; while  more  than 
half  of  the  army,  under  Howe  in  person,  accompa- 
nied by  Clinton,  Percy,  and  Cornwallis,  accom- 
plished a long  night  march  by  the  J amaica  road, 
in  order  to  take  the  Americans  in  flank.  This 
long  flanking  march  was  completed  in  perfect  se- 
crecy because  the  people  of  the  neighbourhood  were 
in  sympathy  with  the  British,  and  it  encountered 
no  obstacles  because  the  American  force  was  sim- 
ply incapable  of  covering  so  much  territory.  The 
divisions  of  Stirling  and  Sullivan  contained  the 
5,000  men  which  were  all  that  Putnam  could  af- 
ford to  send  forward  from  his  works.  A patrol 
which  watched  the  Jamaica  road  was  captured 
early  in  the  morning,  but  it  would  not  in  any  case 
have  been  possible  to  send  any  force  there  which 
could  materially  have  hindered  the  British  ad- 
vance. Overwhelming  superiority  in  numbers  en- 
abled the  British  to  go  where  they  pleased,  and 
the  battle  was  already  virtually  won  when  they  ap- 
peared on  the  Jamaica  road  in  the  rear  of  the  vil- 
lage of  Bedford.  Scarcely  had  the  fight  begun  on 
the  crest  of  the  hill  between  Sullivan  and  the  Hes- 
sians in  his  front  when  he  found  himself  assaulted 
in  the  rear.  Thrown  into  confusion,  and  driven 
back  and  forth  through  the  woods  between  two 
galling  fires,  his  division  was  quickly  routed,  and 
nearly  all  were  taken  prisoners,  including  the  gen- 
eral himself.  On  the  coast  road  the  fight  between 
Stirling  and  Grant  was  the  first  in  which  Ameri- 
cans had  ever  met  British  troops  in  open  field  and 
in  regular  line  of  battle.  Against  the  sturdy  High- 
land regiments  Stirling  held  his  ground  gallantly 


BATTLE  OF  LONG  ISLAND 
August  27,  1776 


FIB  ST  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  209 

for  four  hours,  until  he  was  in  turn  assaulted  in 
the  rear  by  Lord  Cornwallis,  after  the  rout  of  Sul- 
livan. It  now  became,  with  Stirling,  simply  a 
question  of  saving  his  division  from  capture,  and 
after  a desperate  fight  this  end  was  accomplished, 
and  the  men  got  back  to  Brooklyn  Heights,  though 
the  brave  Stirling  himself  was  taken  prisoner.  In 
this  noble  struggle  the  highest  honours  were  won 
by  the  brigade  of  Maryland  men  commanded  by 
Smallwood,  and  throughout  the  war  we  shall  find 
this  honourable  distinction  of  Maryland  for  the 
personal  gallantry  of  her  troops  fully  maintained, 
until  in  the  last  pitched  battle,  at  Eutaw  Springs, 
we  see  them  driving  the  finest  infantry  of  England 
at  the  point  of  the  bayonet. 

The  defeat  of  Sullivan  and  Stirling  enabled 
Howe  to  bring  up  his  whole  army  in  front  of  the 
works  at  Brooklyn  Heights  toward  the  close  of  the 
day.  To  complete  the  victory  it  would  be  neces- 
sary to  storm  these  works,  but  Howe’s  men  were 
tired  with  marching,  if  not  with  fighting,  and  so 
the  incident  known  as  the  battle  of  Long  Island 
came  to  an  end.  A swift  ship  was  at  once  dis- 
patched to  England  with  the  news  of  the  victory, 
which  were  somewhat  highly  coloured.  It  was  foi 
a while  supposed  that  there  had  been  a terrible 
slaughter,  but  careful  research  has  shown  that  this 
was  not  the  case.  About  400  had  been  killed  and 
wounded  on  each  side,  and  this  loss  had  been  incurred 
mainly  in  the  fight  between  Stirling  and  Grant. 
On  other  parts  of  the  field  the  British  triumph  had 
consisted  chiefly  in  the  scooping  up  of  prisoners, 
of  whom  at  least  1,000  were  taken.  The  stories  of 


210 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


a wholesale  butchery  by  the  Hessians  which  once 
were  current  have  been  completely  disproved. 
Washington  gave  a detailed  account  of  the  affair  a 
few  days  afterward,  and  the  most  careful  investi- 
gation has  shown  that  he  was  correct  in  every  par- 
ticular. But  to  the  American  public  the  blow  was 
none  the  less  terrible,  while  in  England  the  exul- 
tation served  as  an  offset  to  the  chagrin  felt  after 
the  loss  of  Boston  and  the  defeat  at  Fort  Moultrie, 
and  it  was  naturally  long  before  facts  could  be  seen 
in  their  true  proportions. 

Heavy  as  was  the  blow,  however,  General  Howe’s 
object  was  still  but  half  attained.  He  had  neither 
captured  nor  destroyed  the  American  forces  on 
Long  Island,  but  had  only  driven  them  into  their 
works.  He  was  still  confronted  by  8,000  men  on 
Brooklyn  Heights,  and  the  problem  was  how  to 
dislodge  them.  In  the  evening  Washington  came 
over  from  New  York,  and  made  everything  ready 
to  resist  a storm.  To  this  end,  on  the  next  day,  he 
brought  over  reinforcements,  raising  his  total  force 
within  the  works  to  10,000  men.  Under  such  cir- 
cumstances, if  the  British  had  attempted  a storm 
they  would  probably  have  been  repulsed  with  great 
slaughter.  But  Howe  had  not  forgot- 
STetiegePthe8  ten  Bunker  Hill,  and  he  thought  it  best 
to  proceed  by  way  of  siege.  As  soon  as 
Washington  perceived  this  intention  of  his  adver- 
sary, he  saw  that  he  must  withdraw  his  army.  He 
would  have  courted  a storm,  in  which  he  was  al- 
most sure  to  be  victorious,  but  he  shrank  from  a 
siege,  in  which  he  was  quite  sure  to  lose  his  whole 
force.  The  British  troops  now  invested  him  in  a 


FIRST  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  211 


semicircle,  and  their  ships  might  at  any  moment 
close  in  behind  and  cut  off  his  only  retreat.  Ac- 
cordingly, sending  trusty  messengers  across  the 
river,  Washington  collected  every  sloop,  yacht, 
fishing-smack,  yawl,  scow,  or  row-boat  that  could 
be  found  in  either  water  from  the  Battery  to 
King’s  Bridge  or  Hell-Gate ; and  after  nightfall  of 
the  29th,  these  craft  were  all  assembled  at  the 
Brooklyn  ferry,  and  wisely  manned  by  the  fisher- 
men  of  Marblehead  and  Gloucester 

_ , T ^ . but  Washing- 

from  Glover  s Kssex  regiment,  experts,  ton  slips  away 

_ with  his  army. 

every  one  of  them,  whether  at  oar  or 
sail.  All  through  the  night  the  American  troops 
were  ferried  across  the  broad  river,  as  quietly  as 
possible  and  in  excellent  order,  while  Washington 
superintended  the  details  of  the  embarkation,  and 
was  himself  the  last  man  to  leave  the  ground.  At 
seven  o’clock  in  the  morning  the  whole  American 
army  had  landed  on  the  New  York  side,  and  had 
brought  with  them  all  their  cannon,  small  arms, 
ammunition,  tools,  and  horses,  and  all  their  larder 
besides,  so  that  when  the  bewildered  British 
climbed  into  the  empty  works  they  did  not  find  so 
much  as  a biscuit  or  a glass  of  rum  wherewith  to 
console  themselves. 

This  retreat  has  always  been  regarded  as  one  of 
the  most  brilliant  incidents  in  W ashington’s  career, 
and  it  would  certainly  be  hard  to  find 

...  ^ «...  His  vigilance 

a more  striking  example  of  vigilance,  robbed  the 

TT  1 TTT  . ” n 1 1 1 • -IP  , British  of  the 

Had  W asmngton  allowed  himself  to  be  most  golden 

° . opportunity 

cooped  up  on  Brooklyn  Heights  he  ^jnafforded 

would  have  been  forced  to  surrender; 

and  whatever  was  left  of  the  war  would  have  been 


212 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION . 


a game  played  without  queen,  rook,  or  bishop.  For 
this  very  reason  it  is  hardly  creditable  to  Howe  that 
he  should  have  let  his  adversary  get  away  so  easily. 
At  daybreak,  indeed,  the  Americans  had  been  re* 
markably  favoured  by  the  sudden  rise  of  a fog  which 
-covered  the  East  river,  but  during  the  night  the 
moon  had  shone  brightly,  and  one  can  only  won- 
der that  the  multitudinous  plash  of  oars  and  the 
unavoidable  murmur  of  ten  thousand  men  embark- 
ing, with  their  heavy  guns  and  stores,  should  not 
have  attracted  the  attention  of  some  wakeful  senti- 
nel, either  on  shore  or  on  the  fleet.  A storming 
party  of  British,  at  the  right  moment,  would  at 
least  have  disturbed  the  proceedings.  So  rare  a 
chance  of  ending  the  war  at  a blow  was  never 
again  to  be  offered  to  the  British  commanders. 
Washington  now  stationed  the  bulk  of  his  army 
along  the  line  of  the  Harlem  river,  leaving  a 
strong  detachment  in  the  city  under  Putnam ; aud 
presently,  with  the  same  extraordinary  skill  which 
he  had  just  displayed  in  sending  boats  under  the 
very  eyes  of  the  fleet,  he  withdrew  Colonel  Pres- 
cott and  his  troops  from  their  exposed  position  on 
Governor’s  Island,  which  there  was  no  longer  any 
reason  for  holding. 

Hoping  that  the  stroke  just  given  by  the  British 
sword  might  have  weakened  the  obstinacy  of  the 
Americans,  Lord  Howe  again  had  recourse  to  the 
olive-branch.  The  captured  General  Sullivan  was 
sent  to  Congress  to  hold  out  hopes  that  Lord  Howe 
would  use  his  influence  to  get  all  the  obnoxious 
acts  of  Parliament  repealed,  only  he  would  first  like 
to  confer  with  some  of  the  members  of  Congress 


FIRST  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE. 


218 


informally  and  as  with  mere  private  gentlemen.  A 
lively  debate  ensued  upon  this  proposal,  in  which 
some  saw  an  insult  to  Congress,  while  all  quite 
needlessly  suspected  treachery.  John  Adams, 
about  whom  there  was  so  much  less  of  the  suaviter 
in  modo  than  of  the  fortiter  in  re , alluded  to  Sul- 
livan, quite  unjustly,  as  a “ decoy  duck,”  who  had 
better  have  been  shot  in  the  battle  than  The  confer. 
employed  on  such  a business.  It  was 
finally  voted  that  no  proposals  of  peace  1U 
from  Great  Britain  should  receive  notice,  unless 
they  should  be  conveyed  in  writing,  and  should  ex- 
plicitly recognize  Congress  as  the  legal  representa- 
tive of  the  American  States.  For  this  once,  how- 
ever, out  of  personal  regard  for  Lord  Howe,  and 
that  nothing  might  be  disdained  which  really 
looked  toward  a peaceful  settlement,  they  would 
send  a committee  to  Staten  Island  to  confer  with 
his  lordship,  who  might  regard  this  committee  in 
whatever  light  he  pleased.  In  this  shrewd,  half- 
humorous  method  of  getting  rid  of  the  diplomatic 
difficulty,  one  is  forcibly  reminded  of  President 
Lincoln’s  famous  proclamation  addressed  uTo 
whom  it  may  concern.”  The  committee,  consisting 
of  Franklin,  Rutledge,  and  John  Adams,  were 
hospitably  entertained  by  Lord  Howe,  but  their 
conference  came  to  nothing,  because  the  Americans 
now  demanded  a recognition  of  their  independence 
as  a condition  which  must  precede  all  negotiation. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  Lord  Howe,  who  was  a 
warm  friend  to  the  Americans  and  an  energetic 
opponent  of  the  king’s  policy,  was  bitterly  grieved 
at  this  result.  As  a last  resort  he  published  a 


214 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION . 


proclamation  announcing  the  intention  of  the  Brit 
ish  government  to  reconsider  the  various  acts  and 
instructions  by  which  the  Americans  had  been  an- 
noyed, and  appealing  to  all  right-minded  people 
to  decide  for  themselves  whether  it  were  not  wise 
to  rely  on  a solemn  promise  like  this,  rather  than 
commit  themselves  to  the  dangerous  chances  of  an 
unequal  and  unrighteous  war. 

Four  days  after  this  futile  interview  General 
Howe  took  possession  of  New  York.  After  the 
loss  of  Brooklyn  Heights,  Washington  and  Greene 
Howe  takes  were  already  aware  that  the  city  could 
Yoerkit:seJtNew  not  be  held.  Its  capture  was  very 
15 ; easily  effected.  Several  ships-of-the-line 

ascended  the  Hudson  as  far  as  Bloomingdale,  and 
the  East  river  as  far  as  Blackwell's  Island ; and 
while  thus  from  either  side  these  vessels  swept 
the  northern  part  of  Manhattan  with  a searching 
fire,  General  Howe  brought  his  army  across  from 
Brooklyn  in  boats  and  landed  at  Kipp’s  Bay,  near 
the  present  site  of  East  Thirty-Fourth  Street. 
Washington  came  promptly  down,  with  two  New 
England  brigades,  to  reinforce  the  men  whom  he 
had  stationed  at  that  point,  and  to  hinder  the  land- 
ing of  the  enemy  until  Putnam  should  have  time 
to  evacuate  the  city.  To  Washington’s  wrath  and 
disgust,  these  men  were  seized  with  panic,  and  sud- 
denly turned  and  fled  without  firing  a shot.  Had 
Howe  now  thrown  his  men  promptly  forward  across 
the  line  of  Thirty-Fourth  Street,  he  would  have 
cut  off  Putnam’s  retreat  from  the  city.  But  what 
the  New  England  brigades  failed  to  do  a bright 
woman  succeeded  in  accomplishing.  When  IIowo 


FIRST  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  215 


had  reached  the  spot  known  as  Murray  Hill, — 
now  the  centre  of  much  brownstone  magnificence 
in  Park  and  Madison  and  Fifth  avenues,  at  that 
time  a noble  country  farmstead,  — Mrs.  Lindley 
Murray,  mother  of  the  famous  grammarian,  well 
knowing  the  easy  temper  of  the  British  comman- 
der, sent  out  a servant  to  invite  him  to  but  Mrs  Linde 
stop  and  take  luncheon.  A general  halt  ^ve^th™gsu> 
was  ordered ; and  while  Howe  and  his  rison- 
officers  were  gracefully  entertained  for  more  than 
two  hours  by  their  accomplished  and  subtle  hostess, 
Putnam  hastily  marched  his  4,000  men  up  the 
shore  of  the  Hudson,  until,  passing  Bloomingdale, 
he  touched  the  right  wing  of  the  main  army,  and 
was  safe,  though  his  tents,  blankets,  Afctackupon 
and  heavy  guns  had  been  left  behind.  gept< 

The  American  lines  now  extended  from  16- 
the  mouth  of  Harlem  river  across  the  island,  and 
on  the  following  day  the  British  attempted  to 
break  through  their  centre  at  Harlem  Heights; 
but  the  attack  was  repulsed,  with  a loss  of  sixty 
Americans  and  three  hundred  British,  and  the 
lines  just  formed  remained,  with  very  little  change, 
for  nearly  four  weeks. 

General  Howe  had  thus  got  possession  of  the 
city  of  New  York,  but  the  conquest  availed  him 
little  so  long  as  the  American  army  stood  across 
the  island,  in  the  attitude  of  blockading  him.  If 
this  campaign  was  to  decide  the  war,  as  the  min- 
istry hoped,  nothing  short  of  the  cap- 

J f.  ’ ® r Thenewprob- 

ture  or  dispersal  of  W asmngton  s army  gmtafore 

would  suffice.  But  the  problem  was 

now  much  harder  than  it  had  been  at  Brooklyn. 


216 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


For  as  the  land  above  Manhattan  Island  widens 
rapidly  to  the  north  and  east,  it  would  not  be  easy 
to  hem  Washington  in  by  sending  forces  to  his 
rear.  As  soon  as  he  should  find  his  position  im- 
perilled, he  would  possess  the  shorter  line  by  which 
to  draw  his  battalions  together  and  force  an  es- 
cape, and  so  the  event  proved.  Still,  with  Howe’s 
superior  force  and  with  his  fleet,  if  he  could  get 
up  the  Hudson  to  the  rear  of  the  American  right, 
and  at  the  same  time  land  troops  from  the  Sound 
in  the  rear  of  the  American  left,  it  was  possible 
that  Washington  might  be  compelled  to  surrender. 
There  was  nothing  to  bar  Howe’s  passage  up  the 
East  river  to  the  Sound ; but  at  the  northern  ex- 
tremity of  Manhattan  Island  the  ascent  of  the 
Hudson  was  guarded  on  the  east  by  Fort  Washing- 
ton, under  command  of  Putnam,  and  on  the  west 
by  Fort  Lee,  standing  on  the  summit  of  the  lofty 
cliffs  known  as  the  Palisades,  and  commanded  by 
Greene.  It  was  still  doubtful,  however,  whether 
these  two  strongholds  could  effectually  bar  the  as- 
cent of  so  broad  a river,  and  for  further  security 
Putnam  undertook  to  place  obstructions  in  the 
bed  of  the  stream  itself.  Both  the  Continental 
Congress  and  the  State  Convention  of  New  York 
were  extremely  unwilling  that  these  two  fortresses 
should  in  any  event  be  given  up,  for  in  no  case 
must  the  Hudson  river  be  abandoned.  Putnam 
and  Greene  thought  that  the  forts  could  be  held, 
but  by  the  9th  of  October  it  was  proved  that  they 
could  not  bar  the  passage  of  the  river,  for  on  that 
day  two  frigates  ran  safely  between  them,  and 
captured  some  small  American  craft  a short  dis- 
tance above. 


FIRST  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  217 

This  point  having  been  ascertained,  General 
Howe,  on  the  12th,  leaving  Percy  in  command  be- 
fore Harlem  Heights,  moved  the  greater  part  of 
his  army  nine  miles  up  the  East  river 

^ A . . Howe  moves 

to  Throw’s  Neck,  a peninsula  m the  upon  Throws 

° \ A *111  Neck,  but 

Sound,  separated  from  the  mainland  by  Washington 

A _ _ changes  base. 

a narrow  creek  and  a marsh  that  was 
overflowed  at  high  tide.  By  landing  here  sud- 
denly, Howe  hoped  to  get  in  Washington’s  rear 
and  cut  him  off  from  his  base  of  supply  in  Con- 
necticut. But  Washington  had  foreseen  the  move 
and  forestalled  it.  When  Howe  arrived  at  Throg’s 
Neck,  he  found  the  bridge  over  the  creek  de- 
stroyed, and  the  main  shore  occupied  by  a force 
which  it  would  be  dangerous  to  try  to  dislodge  by 
Wading  across  the  marsh.  While  Howe  was  thus 
detained  six  days  on  the  peninsula  Washington 
moved  his  base  to  White  Plains,  and  concentrated 
his  whole  army  at  that  point,  abandoning  every- 
thing on  Manhattan  Island  except  Fort  Washing- 
ton. Sullivan,  Stirling,  and  Morgan,  who  had  just 
been  exchanged,  now  rejoined  the  army,  and  Lee 
also  arrived  from  South  Carolina. 

By  this  movement  to  White  Plains,  Washing- 
ton had  foiled  Howe’s  attempt  to  get  in  his  rear, 
and  the  British  general  decided  to  try  Baffied  at 
the  effect  of  an  attack  in  front.  On 
the  28th  of  October  he  succeeded  in 
storming  an  outpost  at  Chatterton  Hill,  losing 
229  lives,  while  the  Americans  lost  140.  But  this 
affair,  which  is  sometimes  known  as  the  battle  of 
White  Plains,  seems  to  have  discouraged  Howe. 
Before  renewing  the  attack  he  waited  three  days, 


218 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


thinking  perhaps  of  Bunker  Hill ; and  on  the 
last  night  of  October,  Washington  fell  back  upon 
North  Castle,  where  he  took  a position  so  strong 
that  it  was  useless  to  think  of  assailing  him. 
Howe  then  changed  his  plans  entirely,  and  moved 
down  the  east  bank  of  the  Hudson  to  Dobb’s 
Ferry,  whence  he  could  either  attack  Fort  Wash- 
ington or  cross  into  New  Jersey  and  advance  upon 
Philadelphia,  the  “ rebel  capital.”  The  purpose 
of  this  change  was  to  entice  Washington  from  his 
unassailable  position. 

To  meet  this  new  movement,  W ashington  threw 
his  advance  of  5,000  men,  under  Putnam,  into  New 
Jersey,  where  they  encamped  near  Hackensack ; 
he  sent  Heath  up  to  Peekskill,  with  8,000  men,  to 
guard  the  entrance  to  the  Highlands ; and  he  left 
Lee  at  North  Castle,  with  7,000  men,  and  ordered 
him  to  cooperate  with  him  promptly  in  whatever 
direction,  as  soon  as  the  nature  of  Howe’s  plans 
should  become  apparent.  As  Forts  Washington 
and  Lee  detained  a large  force  in  garrison,  while 
Washington’s  ^ad  shown  themselves  unable  to 

of ‘the  emer- w Preven^  ships  from  passing  up  the  river, 
geney.  there  was  no  longer  any  use  in  holding 

them.  Nay,  they  had  now  become  dangerous,  as 
traps  in  which  the  garrisons  and  stores  might  be 
suddenly  surrounded  and  captured.  Washington 
accordingly  resolved  to  evacuate  them  both,  while, 
to  allay  the  fears  of  Congress  in  the  event  of  a 
descent  from  Canada,  he  ordered  Heath  to  fortify 
the  much  more  important  position  at  West  Point. 

Had  Washington’s  orders  been  obeyed  and  his 
plans  carried  out,  history  might  still  have  recorded 


OPERATIONS  IN  NEW  YORK  AND  NEW  JERSEY 

1776-77 


ik  umw 

OF  THE 

MHVUWTT  OF  IkMMOiS 


FIRST  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  219 


a retreat  through  “ the  Jerseys,”  but  how  different 
a retreat  from  that  which  was  now  Congre88med. 
about  to  take  place ! The  officious  in- 
terference  of  Congress,  a venial  error  muddle8  ik- 
of  judgment  on  the  part  of  Greene,  and  gross  in- 
subordination on  the  part  of  Lee,  occurring  all  to- 
gether at  this  critical  moment,  brought  about  the 
greatest  disaster  of  the  war,  and  came  within  an 
ace  of  overwhelming  the  American  cause  in  total 
and  irretrievable  ruin.  Washington  instructed. 
Greene,  who  now  commanded  both  fortresses,  to 
withdraw  the  garrison  and  stores  from  Fort  Wash- 
ington, and  to  make  arrangements  for  evacuating 
Fort  Lee  also.  At  the  same  time  he  did  not  give 
a positive  order,  but  left  the  matter  somewhat 
within  Greene’s  discretion,  in  case  military  cir- 
cumstances of  an  unforeseen  kind  should  arise. 
Then,  while  Washington  had  gone  up  to  recon- 
noitre the  site  for  the  new  fortress  at  West  Point, 
there  came  a special  order  from  Congress  that 
Fort  Washington  should  not  be  abandoned  save 
under  direst  extremity.  If  Greene  had  thoroughly 
grasped  Washington’s  view  of  the  case,  he  would 
have  disregarded  this  conditional  order,  for  there 
could  hardly  be  a worse  extremity  than  that 
which  the  sudden  capture  of  the  fortress  would 
entail.  But  Greene’s  mind  was  not  quite  clear ; 
he  believed  that  the  fort  could  be  held,  and  he  did 
not  like  to  take  the  responsibility  of  disregarding 
a message  from  Congress.  In  this  dilemma  he  did 
the  worst  thing  possible  : he  reinforced  the  doomed 
garrison,  and  awaited  Washington’s  return. 


220 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


When  the  commander-in-chief  returned,  on  the 
14th,  he  learned  with  dismay  that  nothing  had 
been  done.  But  it  was  now  too  late  to  mend  mat- 
ters, for  that  very  night  several  British  vessels 
passed  up  between  the  forts,  and  the  next  day 
Howe  appeared  before  Fort  Washington  with  an 
overwhelming  force,  and  told  Colonel  Magaw,  the 
officer  in  charge,  that  if  he  did  not  immediately 
surrender  the  whole  garrison  would  be  put  to  the 
sword.  Magaw  replied  that  if  Howe  wanted  his 
fort  he  must  come  and  take  it.  On  the  16th, 
Howe  takes  a^ter  a sharp  struggle,  in  which  the 
fo°nrtby^atolrmf  Americans  fought  with  desperate  gal- 
Nov-16,  lantry,  though  they  were  outnumbered 
more  than  five  to  one,  the  works  were  carried,  and 
jhe  whole  garrison  was  captured.  The  victory  cost 
the  British  more  than  500  men  in  killed  and 
wounded.  The  Americans,  fighting  behind  their 
works,  lost  but  150 ; but  they  surrendered  3,000  of 
the  best  troops  in  their  half-trained  army,  together 
with  an  immense  quantity  of  artillery  and  small 
arms.  It  was  not  in  General  Howe’s  kindly  nature 
to  carry  out  his  savage  threat  of  the  day  before ; 
but  some  of  the  Hessians,  maddened  with  the  stub- 
born resistance  they  had  encountered,  began  mur- 
dering their  prisoners  in  cold  blood,  until  they  were 
sharply  called  to  order.  From  Fort  Lee,  on  the 
opposite  bank  of  the  river,  Washington  surveyed 
this  woful  surrender  with  his  usual  iron  composure ; 
Dut  when  it  came  to  seeing  his  brave  men  thrown 
down  and  stabbed  to  death  by  the  Hessian  bay- 
onets, his  overwrought  heart  could  bear  it  no 
longer,  and  he  cried  and  sobbed  like  a child. 


FIRST  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  221 


This  capture  of  the  garrison  of  Fort  Washing- 
ton was  one  of  the  most  crushing  blows  that  be- 
fell the  American  arms  during  the  whole  course  of 
the  war.  W ashington’s  campaign  seemed  now  likely 
to  be  converted  into  a mere  flight,  and  a terrible 
gloom  overspread  the  whole  country.  The  disas- 
ter  was  primarily  due  to  the  interference  of  Con- 
gress. It  might  have  been  averted  by  Washington 
prompt  and  decisive  action  on  the  part  and  Greene* 
of  Greene.  But  Washington,  whose  clear  judg- 
ment made  due  allowance  for  all  the  circumstances, 
never  for  a moment  cast  any  blame  upon  his  sub- 
ordinate. The  lesson  was  never  forgotten  by 
Greene,  whose  intelligence  was  of  that  high  order 
which  may  indeed  make  a first  mistake,  but  never 
makes  a second.  The  friendship  between  the  two 
generals  became  warmer  than  ever.  Washington, 
by  a sympathetic  instinct,  had  divined  from  the 
outset  the  military  genius  that  was  by  and  by  to 
prove  scarcely  inferior  to  his  own. 

Yet  worse  remained  behind.  Washington  had 
but  6,000  men  on  the  Jersey  side  of  the  river,  and 
it  was  now  high  time  for  Lee  to  come  over  from 
North  Castle  and  join  him,  with  the  force  of  7,000 
that  had  been  left  under  his  command.  On  the 
17th,  Washington  sent  a positive  order  for  him  to 
cross  the  river  at  once;  but  Lee  dis- 
sembled, pretended  to  regard  the  order  conduct  of 

^ Charles  L00* 

in  the  light  of  mere  advice,  and  stayed 
where  he  was.  He  occupied  an  impregnable  posi- 
tion . why  should  he  leave  it,  and  imperil  a force 
with  which  he  might  accomplish  something  memo- 
rable on  his  own  account?  By  the  resignation  of 


222 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


General  Ward,  Lee  had  become  the  senior  major- 
general  of  the  Continental  army,  and  in  the  event 
of  disaster  to  Washington  he  would  almost  cer- 
tainly become  commander-in-chief.  He  had  re- 
turned from  South  Carolina  more  arrogant  and 
loud-voiced  than  ever.  The  northern  people  knew 
little  of  Moultrie,  while  they  supposed  Lee  to  be  a 
great  military  light ; and  the  charlatan  accordingly 
got  the  whole  credit  of  the  victory,  which,  if  his 
precious  advice  had  been  taken,  would  never  have 
been  won.  Lee  was  called  the  hero  of  Charleston* 
and  people  began  to  contrast  the  victory  of  Sulli' 
van’s  Island  with  the  recent  defeats,  and  to  draw 
conclusions  very  disparaging  to  W ashington.  From 
the  beginning  Lee  had  felt  personally  aggrieved  at 
not  being  appointed  to  the  chief  command,  and 
now  he  seemed  to  see  a fair  chance  of  ruining  his 
hated  rival.  Should  he  come  to  the  head  of  the 
army  in  a moment  of  dire  disaster  to  the  Ameri- 
cans, it  would  be  so  much  the  better,  for  it  would 
be  likely  to  open  negotiations  with  Lord  Howe* 
and  Lee  loved  to  chaffer  and  intrigue  much  better 
than  to  fight.  So  he  spent  his  time  in  endeavour- 
ing, by  insidious  letters  and  lying  whispers,  to 
nourish  the  feeling  of  disaffection  toward  Wash- 
ington, while  he  refused  to  send  a single  regiment 
to  his  assistance.  Thus,  through  the  villainy  of 
this  traitor  in  the  camp,  Washington  actually  lost 
more  men,  so  far  as  their  present  use  was  con- 
cerned at  this  most  critical  moment,  than  he  had 
been  deprived  of  by  all  the  blows  which  the  en- 
emy had  dealt  him  since  the  beginning  of  the  cam- 
paign. 


FIRST  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE. 


223 


On  the  night  of  the  19th,  Howe  threw  5,000  men 
across  the  river,  about  five  miles  above  Fort  Lee, 
and  with  this  force  Lord  Cornwallis  marched  rap- 
idly down  upon  that  stronghold.  The  place  had 
become  untenable,  and  it  was  with  some  difficulty 
that  a repetition  of  the  catastrophe  of  Fort  Wash- 
ington  was  avoided.  Greene  had  barely  Greene  barely 
time,  with  his  2,000  men,  to  gain  the  ^IX£0,a 
bridge  over  the  Hackensack  and  join  1>0v‘ 20* 
the  main  army,  leaving  behind  all  his  cannon, 
tents,  blankets,  and  eatables.  The  position  now 
occupied  by  the  main  army,  between  the  Hacken- 
sack and  Passaic  rivers,  was  an  unsafe  one,  in  view 
of  the  great  superiority  of  the  enemy  in  numbers. 
A strong  British  force,  coming  down  upon  Wash- 
ington from  the  north,  might  compel  him  to  sur- 
render or  to  fight  at  a great  disadvantage.  To 
avoid  this  danger,  on  the  21st,  he  crossed  the  Pas- 
saic and  marched  south  westward  to  Newark,  where 
he  stayed  five  days ; and  every  day  he  sent  a mes- 
senger to  Lee,  urging  him  to  make  all  possible 
haste  in  bringing  over  his  half  of  the  army,  that 
they  might  be  able  to  confront  the  enemy  on  some- 
thing like  equal  terms.  Nothing  could  have  been 
more  explicit  or  more  peremptory  than  Washing- 
ton’s orders ; but  Lee  affected  to  misunderstand 
them,  sent  excuses,  raised  objections,  paltered, 
argued,  prevaricated,  and  lied,  and  so  contrived  to 
stay  where  he  was  until  the  first  of  December.  To 
W ashington  he  pretended  that  his  moving  was  be- 
set by  “obstacles,”  the  nature  of  which  he  would 
explain  as  soon  as  they  should  meet.  But  to 
James  Bowdoin,  president  of  the  executive  council 


224 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION . 


of  Massachusetts,  he  wrote  at  the  same  time  declar- 
. t.  ing  that  his  own  army  and  that  under 
gainst  wash-  Washington  “ must  rest  each  on  its  own 
bottom.”  He  assumed  command  over 
Heath,  who  had  been  left  to  guard  the  Highlands, 
and  ordered  him  to  send  2,000  troops  to  reinforce 
the  main  army  ; but  that  officer  very  properly  re- 
fused to  depart  from  the  instructions  which  the 
commander-in-chief  had  left  with  him.  To  various 
members  of  Congress  Lee  told  the  falsehood  that  if 
his  advice  had  only  been  heeded,  Fort  Washington 
would  have  been  evacuated  ere  it  was  too  late; 
and  he  wrote  to  Dr.  Rush,  wondering  whether  any 
of  the  members  of  Congress  had  ever  studied  Ro- 
man history,  and  suggesting  that  he  might  do  great 
things  if  he  could  only  be  made  Dictator  for  one 
week. 

Meanwhile  Washington,  unable  to  risk  a battle, 
was  rapidly  retreating  through  New  Jersey.  On 
the  28th  of  November  Cornwallis  advanced  upon 
Newark,  and  Washington  fell  back  upon  New 
Brunswick.  On  the  first  of  December,  as  Corn- 
wallis reached  the  latter  place,  Washington  broke 
down  the  bridge  over  the  Raritan,  and  continued 
his  retreat  to  Princeton.  The  terms  of 
service  for  which  his  troops  had  been 
enlisted  were  now  beginning  to  expire, 
and  so  great  was  the  discouragement  wrought  by 
the  accumulation  of  disasters  which  had  befallen 
the  army  since  the  battle  of  Long  Island  that 
many  of  the  soldiers  lost  heart  in  their  work. 
Homesickness  began  to  prevail,  especially  among 
the  New  England  troops,  and  as  their  terms  ex- 


Washington 
retreats  into 
Pennsylvania. 


FIRST  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  225 

pired  it  was  difficult  to  persuade  them  to  reenlist. 
Under  these  circumstances  the  army  dwindled  fast, 
until,  by  the  time  he  reached  Princeton,  Washing- 
ton had  but  3,000  men  remaining  at  his  disposal. 
The  only  thing  to  be  done  was  to  put  the  broad 
stream  of  the  Delaware  between  himself  and  the 
enemy,  and  this  he  accomplished  by  the  8th,  car- 
rying over  all  his  guns  and  stores,  and  seizing  or 
destroying  every  boat  that  could  be  found  on  that 
great  river  for  many  miles  in  either  direction. 
When  the  British  arrived,  on  the  evening  of  the 
same  day,  they  found  it  impossible  to  cross.  Corn- 
wallis was  eager  to  collect  a flotilla  of  boats  as  soon 
as  practicable,  and  push  on  to  Philadelphia,  but 
Howe,  who  had  just  joined  him,  thought  it  hardly 
worth  while  to  take  so  much  trouble,  as  the  river 
would  be  sure  to  freeze  over  before  many  days. 
So  the  army  was  posted  — with  front  somewhat  too 
far  extended  — along  the  east  bank,  with  its  centre 
at  Trenton,  under  Colonel  Rail ; and  while  they 
waited  for  that  “ snap  ” of  intensely  cold  weather, 
which  in  this  climate  seldom  fails  to  come  on  within 
a few  days  of  Christmas,  Howe  and  Cornwallis 
both  went  back  to  New  York. 

Meanwhile,  on  the  2d  of  December,  Lee  had  at 
last  crossed  the  Hudson  with  a force  diminished 
to  4,000  men,  and  had  proceeded  by  slow  marches 
as  far  as  Morristown.  Further  reinforcements 
were  at  hand.  General  Schuyler,  in  command  of 
the  army  which  had  retreated  the  last  summer 
from  Canada,  was  guarding  the  forts  on  Lake 
Champlain ; and  as  these  appeared  to  be  safe  for 
the  present,  he  detached  seven  regiments  to  go 


226 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION . 


to  the  aid  of  Washington.  As  soon  as  Lee  heard 
of  the  arrival  of  three  of  these  regi- 

Reraforcements  ° 

Schuyler™  ments  at  Peekskill,  he  ordered  them  to 
join  him  at  Morristown.  As  the  other 
four,  under  General  Gates,  were  making  their  way 
through  northern  New  Jersey,  doubts  arose  as  to 
where  they  should  find  Washington  in  the  course 
of  his  swift  retreat.  Gates  sent  his  aid,  Major 
Wilkinson,  forward  for  instructions,  and  he,  learn- 
ing that  Washington  had  withdrawn  into  Pennsyl- 
vania, reported  to  Lee  at  Morristown,  as  second  in 
command. 

Lee  had  left  his  army  in  charge  of  Sullivan, 
and  had  foolishly  taken  up  his  quarters  at  an  un- 
guarded tavern  about  four  miles  from  the  town, 
where  Wilkinson  found  him  in  bed  on  the  morn- 
ing of  the  13th.  After  breakfast  Lee  wrote  a 
confidential  letter  to  Gates,  as  to  a kindred  spirit 
Fortunately  from  wllom  he  mi8'ht  exPect  to  get  sym- 

can^tht^rit-  Pa%-  Terrible  had  been  the  conse- 
charies  Lee  quences  of  the  disaster  at  Fort  Wash- 

Dec.  13.  ington.  “ There  never  was  so  damned 

a stroke,”  said  the  letter.  “ Entre  nous>  a certain 
great  man  is  most  damnably  deficient.  He  has 
thrown  me  into  a situation  where  I have  my  choice 
of  difficulties.  If  I stay  in  this  province  I risk 
myself  and  army,  and  if  I do  not  stay  the  province 
is  lost  forever.  . . . Our  counsels  have  been  weak 
to  the  last  degree.  As  to  yourself,  if  you  think 
you  can  be  in  time  to  aid  the  general,  I would  have 
you  by  all  means  go.  You  will  at  least  save  your 
army.  . . . Adieu,  my  dear  friend.  God  bless 
you.  ” Hardly  had  he  signed  his  name  to  this  scan- 


FIRST  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  227 

dalous  document  when  Wilkinson,  who  was  stand- 
ing at  the  window,  exclaimed  that  the  British  were 
upon  them.  Sure  enough.  A Tory  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood, discerning  the  golden  opportunity,  had 
galloped  eighteen  miles  to  the  British  lines,  and 
returned  with  a party  of  thirty  dragoons,  who  sur- 
rounded the  house  and  captured  the  vainglorious 
schemer  before  he  had  time  to  collect  his  senses. 
Bareheaded,  and  dressed  only  in  a flannel  gown  and 
slippers,  he  was  mounted  on  Wilkinson’s  horse, 
which  stood  waiting  at  the  door,  and  was  carried 
off,  amid  much  mirth  and  exultation,  to  the  British 
camp.  Crest-fallen  and  bewildered,  he  expressed 
a craven  hope  that  his  life  might  be  spared,  but 
was  playfully  reminded  that  he  would  very  likely 
be  summarily  dealt  with  as  a deserter  from  the 
British  army ; and  with  this  scant  comfort  he  was 
fain  to  content  himself  for  some  weeks  to  come. 

The  capture  of  General  Lee  was  reckoned  by 
the  people  as  one  more  in  the  list  of  dire  catas- 
trophes which  made  the  present  season  the  dark- 
est moment  in  the  whole  course  of  the  war.  Had 
they  known  all  that  we  know  now,  they  would  have 
seen  that  the  army  was  well  rid  of  a worthless 
mischief-maker,  while  the  history  of  the  war  had 
gained  a curiously  picturesque  episode.  Apart 
from  this  incident  there  was  cause  enough  for  the 
gloom  which  now  overspread  the  whole  country. 
Washington  had  been  forced  to  seek  shelter  be- 
hind the  Delaware  with  a handful  of  men,  whose 
terms  of  service  were  soon  to  expire,  and  another 
fortnight  might  easily  witness  the  utter  dispersal 
of  this  poor  little  army.  At  Philadelphia,  where 


228 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


Putnam  was  now  in  command,  there  was  a general 
panic,  and  people  began  hiding  their  valuables  and 
_ , , moving  their  wives  and  children  out  into 

that  tried  the  country.  Congress  took  fright,  and 

men’s  souls.  . . ° 0 ’ 

retired  to  Baltimore.  At  the  beginning 
of  December,  Lord  Howe  and  his  brother  had  is- 
sued a proclamation  offering  pardon  and  protection 
to  all  citizens  who  within  sixty  days  should  take  the 
oath  of  allegiance  to  the  British  Crown  ; and  in  the 
course  of  ten  days  nearly  three  thousand  persons, 
many  of  them  wealthy  and  of  high  standing  in  so- 
ciety, had  availed  themselves  of  this  promise.  The 
British  soldiers  and  the  Tories  considered  the  con- 
test virtually  ended.  General  Howe  was  compared 
with  Caesar,  who  came,  and  saw,  and  conquered.  For 
his  brilliant  successes  he  had  been  made  a Knight 
Commander  of  the  Bath,  and  New  York  was  to 
become  the  scene  of  merry  Christmas  festivities  on 
the  occasion  of  his  receiving  the  famous  red  rib- 
bon. In  his  confidence  that  W ashington’s  strength 
was  quite  exhausted,  he  detached  a considerable 
force  from  the  army  in  New  Jersey,  and  sent  it, 
under  Lord  Percy,  to  take  possession  of  Newport 
as  a convenient  station  for  British  ships  entering 
the  Sound.  Donop  and  Rail  with  their  Hessians 
and  Grant  with  his  hardy  Scotchmen  would  now 
quite  suffice  to  destroy  the  remnant  of  Washing- 
ton’s army ; and  Cornwallis  accordingly  packed  his 
portmanteaus  and  sent  them  aboard  ship,  intending 
to  sail  for  England  as  soon  as  the  fumes  of  the 
Christmas  punch  should  be  duly  slept  off. 

Well  might  Thomas  Paine  declare,  in  the  first 
of  the  series  of  pamphlets  entitled  “ The  Crisis,” 


FIRST  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE. 


229 


which  he  now  began  to  publish,  that  “ these  are  the 
times  that  try  men’s  souls.”  But  in  the  midst  of 
the  general  despondency  there  were  a few  brave 
hearts  that  had  not  yet  begun  to  despair,  and  the 
bravest  of  these  was  Washington’s.  At  this  awful 
moment  the  whole  future  of  America,  _ 

. Washington 

and  of  all  that  America  signifies  to  the  prepares  to 

. strike  back. 

world,  rested  upon  that  single  Titanic 
will.  Cruel  defeat  and  yet  more  cruel  treachery, 
enough  to  have  crushed  the  strongest,  could  not 
crush  Washington.  All  the  lion  in  him  was 
aroused,  and  his  powerful  nature  was  aglow  with 
passionate  resolve.  His  keen  eye  already  saw  the 
elements  of  weakness  in  Howe’s  too  careless  dispo- 
sition of  his  forces  on  the  east  bank  of  the  Dela- 
ware, and  he  had  planned  for  his  antagonist  such 
a Christmas  greeting  as  he  little  expected.  Just 
at  this  moment  Washington  was  opportunely  rein- 
forced by  Sullivan  and  Gates,  with  the  troops 
lately  under  Lee’s  command ; and  with  his  little 
army  thus  raised  to  6,000  men,  he  meditated  such 
a stroke  as  might  revive  the  drooping  spirits  of 
his  countrymen,  and  confound  the  enemy  in  the 
very  moment  of  his  fancied  triumph. 

Washington’s  plan  was,  by  a sudden  attack,  to 
overwhelm  the  British  centre  at  Trenton,  and  thus 
force  the  army  to  retreat  upon  New  York.  The 
Delaware  was  to  be  crossed  in  three  divisions.  The 
right  wing,  of  2,000  men,  under  Gates,  was  to 
attack  Count  Donop  at  Burlington;  Ewing,  with 
the  centre,  was  to  cross  directly  opposite  Trenton ; 
while  Washington  himself,  with  the  left  wing,  was 
to  cross  nine  miles  above,  and  march  down  upon 


280 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


Trenton  from  the  north.  On  Christmas  Day  all 
was  ready,  but  the  beginnings  of  the  enterprise 
were  not  auspicious.  Gates,  who  preferred  to  go 
and  intrigue  in  Congress,  succeeded  in  begging  off, 
and  started  for  Baltimore.  Cadwalader,  who  took 
his  place,  tried  hard  to  get  his  men  and  artillery 
across  the  river,  but  was  baffled  by  the  huge  masses 
of  floating  ice,  and  reluctantly  gave  up  the  attempt. 
Ewing  was  so  discouraged  that  he  did  not  even  try 
to  cross,  and  both  officers  took  it  for  granted  that 
He  crosses  Washington  must  be  foiled  in  like  man* 
the  Delaware;  ner>  But  Washington  was  desperately 
in  earnest ; and  although  at  sunset,  just  as  he  had 
reached  his  crossing-place,  he  was  informed  by 
special  messenger  of  the  failure  of  Ewing  and 
Cadwalader,  he  determined  to  go  on  and  make  the 
attack  with  the  2,500  men  whom  he  had  with  him. 
The  great  blocks  of  ice,  borne  swiftly  along  by  the 
powerful  current,  made  the  passage  extremely  dan- 
gerous, but  Glover,  with  his  skilful  fishermen  of 
Marblehead,  succeeded  in  ferrying  the  little  army 
across  without  the  loss  of  a man  or  a gun.  More 
than  ten  hours  were  consumed  in  the  passage,  and 
then  there  was  a march  of  nine  miles  to  be  made 
in  a blinding  storm  of  snow  and  sleet.  They 
pushed  rapidly  on  in  two  columns,  led  by  Greene 
ami  pierces  the  and  Sullivan  respectively,  drove  in  the 
ftrTrenton tre  enemy’s  pickets  at  the  point  of  the  bay- 
Dec.  26.  onet,  and  entered  the  town  by  different 
roads  soon  after  sunrise.  W ashington’s  guns  were 
at  once  planted  so  as  to  sweep  the  streets,  and  after 
Colonel  Rail  and  seventeen  of  his  men  had  been 
slain,  the  whole  body  of  Hessians,  1,000  in  num- 


FIRST  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE. 


231 


her,  surrendered  at  discretion.  Of  the  Americans, 
two  were  frozen  to  death  on  the  march,  and  two 
were  killed  in  the  action.  By  noon  of  the  next 
day  Cadwalader  had  crossed  the  river  to  Burling- 
ton, but  no  sooner  had  Donop  heard  what  had  hap- 
pened at  Trenton  than  he  retreated  by  a circuitous 
route  to  Princeton,  leaving  behind  all  his  sick  and 
wounded  soldiers,  and  all  his  heavy  arms  and  bag- 
gage. Washington  recrossed  into  Pennsylvania 
with  his  prisoners,  but  again  advanced,  and  occu- 
pied Trenton  on  the  29th. 

When  the  news  of  the  catastrophe  reached  New 
York,  the  holiday  feasting  was  rudely  Cornwallis 
disturbed.  Instead  of  embarking  for  JeSvethe 
England,  Cornwallis  rode  post-haste  to  disaster; 
Princeton,  where  he  found  Donop  throwing  up 
earthworks.  On  the  morning  of  January  2d 
Cornwallis  advanced,  with  8,000  men,  upon  Tren- 
ton, but  his  march  was  slow  and  painful.  He  was 
exposed  during  most  of  the  day  to  a galling  fire 
from  parties  of  riflemen  hidden  in  the  woods  by 
the  roadside,  and  Greene,  with  a force  of  600  men 
and  two  field-pieces,  contrived  so  to  harass  and 
delay  him  that  he  did  not  reach  Trenton  till  late 
in  the  afternoon.  By  that  time  Washington  had 
withdrawn  his  whole  force  beyond  the  Assunpink, 
a small  river  which  flows  into  the  Delaware  just 
south  of  Trenton,  and  had  guarded  the  bridge  and 
the  fords  by  batteries  admirably  placed.  The 
British  made  several  attempts  to  cross,  but  were 
repulsed  with  some  slaughter ; and  as  their  day’s 
work  had  sorely  fatigued  them,  Cornwallis  thought 
best  to  wait  until  to-morrow,  while  he  sent  his 


232  THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


messenger  post-haste  back  to  Princeton  to  bring  up 
a force  of  nearly  2,000  men  which  he  had  left  be- 
hind there.  With  this  added  strength  he  felt  sure 
that  he  could  force  the  passage  of  the 

and  thinks  he  1 . . ° 

has  run  down  stream  above  the  American  position, 

the  “old fox.”  . . ___  . , . , 

when  by  turning  Washingtons  right 
flank  he  could  fold  him  back  against  the  Delaware, 
and  thus  compel  him  to  surrender.  Cornwallis 
accordingly  went  to  bed  in  high  spirits.  “ At  last 
we  have  run  down  the  old  fox,”  said  he,  “ and  we 
will  bag  him  in  the  morning.” 

The  situation  was  indeed  a very  dangerous  one  ; 
but  when  the  British  general  called  his  antagonist 
an  old  fox,  he  did  him  no  more  than  justice.  In 
^ _ its  union  of  slyness  with  audacity,  the 

But  Washing-  . J J ’ 

ton  prepares  a movement  which  Washington  now  exe- 

checkmate ; . ° 

cuted  strongly  reminds  one  of  “ Stone- 
wall” Jackson.  He  understood  perfectly  well 
what  Cornwallis  intended  to  do ; but  he  knew  at 
the  same  time  that  detachments  of  the  British 
army  must  have  been  left  behind  at  Princeton  and 
New  Brunswick  to  guard  the  stores.  Prom  the 
size  of  the  army  before  him  he  rightly  judged  that 
these  rear  detachments  must  be  too  small  to  with- 
stand his  own  force.  By  overwhelming  one  or 
both  of  them,  he  could  compel  Cornwallis  to  re- 
treat upon  New  York,  while  he  himself  might  take 
up  an  impregnable  position  on  the  heights  about 
Morristown,  from  which  he  might  threaten  the 
British  line  and  hold  their  whole  army  in  check, 
— a most  brilliant  and  daring  scheme  for  a com- 
mander to  entertain  while  in  such  a perilous  position 
as  Washington  was  that  night!  But  the  manner 


FIRST  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE. 


233 


in  which  he  began  by  extricating  himself  was  not 
the  least  brilliant  part  of  the  manoeuvre.  All  night 
long  the  American  camp-fires  were  kept  burning 
brightly,  and  small  parties  were  busily  engaged  in 
throwing  up  intrenchments  so  near  the  Assunpink 
that  the  British  sentinels  could  plainly  hear  the 
murmur  of  their  voices  and  the  thud  of  the  spade 
and  pickaxe.  While  this  was  going  on,  the  whole 
American  army  marched  swiftly  up  the  south  bank 
of  the  little  stream,  passed  around  Cornwallis’s 
left  wing  to  his  rear,  and  gained  the  road  to 
Princeton.  Toward  sunrise,  as  the  British  detach- 
ment was  coming  down  the  road  from  Princeton 
to  Trenton,  in  obedience  to  Cornwallis’s  order,  its 
van,  under  Colonel  Mawhood,  met  the  foremost 
column  of  Americans  approaching,  under  General 
Mercer.  As  he  caught  sight  of  the  Americans, 
Mawhood  thought  that  they  must  be  a party  of 
fugitives,  and  hastened  to  intercept  them ; but  he 
was  soon  undeceived.  The  Americans  attacked 
with  vigour,  and  a sharp  fight  was  sustained,  with 
varying  fortunes,  until  Mercer  was  pierced  by  a 
bayonet,  and  his  men  began  to  fall  back  in  some 
confusion.  Just  at  this  critical  moment  „ . 

ana  again  sev- 

Washington  came  galloping  upon  the  SnViT  Prince^ 
field  and  rallied  the  troops,  and  as  the  ton> Jan* 3- 
entire  forces  on  both  sides  had  now  come  up  the 
fight  became  general.  In  a few  minutes  the  Brit- 
ish were  routed  and  their  line  was  cut  in  two; 
one  half  fleeing  toward  Trenton,  the  other  half 
toward  New  Brunswick.  There  was  little  slaugh- 
ter, as  the  whole  fight  did  not  occupy  more  than 
twenty  minutes.  The  British  lost  about  200  in 


234 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


killed  and  wounded,  with  300  prisoners  and  their 
cannon ; the  American  loss  was  less  than  100. 

Shortly  before  sunrise,  the  men  who  had  been 
left  in  the  camp  on  the  Assunpink  to  feed  the  fires 
and  make  a noise  beat  a hasty  retreat,  and  found 
their  way  to  Princeton  by  circuitous  paths.  When 
Cornwallis  got  up,  he  could  hardly  believe  his  eyes. 
Here  was  nothing  before  him  but  an  empty  camp : 
the  American  army  had  vanished,  and  whither  it 
had  gone  he  could  not  imagine.  But  his  perplexity 
was  soon  relieved  by  the  booming  of  distant  can- 
non on  the  Princeton  road,  and  the  game  which  the 
“ old  fox  ” had  played  him  all  at  once  became  ap- 
Generai  re-  parent.  Nothing  was  to  be  done  but  to 

British  toward  retreat  upon  New  Brunswick  with  all 
New  York.  possible  haste,  and  save  the  stores  there. 
His  road  led  back  through  Princeton,  and  from 
Mawhood’s  fugitives  he  soon  heard  the  story  of 
the  morning’s  disaster.  His  march  was  hindered 
by  various  impediments.  A thaw  had  set  in,  so 
that  the  little  streams  had  swelled  into  roaring  tor- 
rents, difficult  to  ford,  and  the  American  army, 
which  had  passed  over  the  road  before  daybreak, 
had  not  forgotten  to  destroy  the  bridges.  By  the 
time  that  Cornwallis  and  his  men  reached  Prince- 
ton, wet  and  weary,  the  Americans  had  already 
left  it,  but  they  had  not  gone  on  to  New  Bruns- 
wick. Washington  had  hoped  to  seize  the  stores 
there,  but  the  distance  was  eighteen  miles,  his  men 
were  wretchedly  shod  and  too  tired  to  march  rap- 
idly, and  it  would  not  be  prudent  to  risk  a general 
engagement  when  his  main  purpose  could  be  se- 
cured without  one.  For  these  reasons,  Washing* 


FIRST  BLOW  AT  TEE  CENTRE.  235 


ton  turned  northward  to  the  heights  of  Morris- 
town, while  Cornwallis  continued  his  retreat  to 
New  Brunswick.  A few  days  later,  Putnam  ad- 
vanced from  Philadelphia  and  occupied  Princeton, 
thus  forming  the  right  wing  of  the  American  army, 
of  which  the  main  body  lay  at  Morristown,  while 
Heath’s  division  on  the  Hudson  constituted  the  left 
wing.  Various  cantonments  were  established  along 
this  long  line.  On  the  5th,  George  Clinton,  com- 
ing down  from  Peekskill,  drove  the  British  out  of 
Hackensack  and  occupied  it,  while  on  the  same  day 
a detachment  of  German  mercenaries  at  Spring- 
field  was  routed  by  a body  of  militia.  Elizabeth- 
town was  then  taken  by  General  Maxwell,  where- 
upon the  British  retired  from  Newark. 

Thus  in  a brief  campaign  of  three  weeks  Wash- 
ington had  rallied  the  fragments  of  a defeated  and 
broken  army,  fought  two  successful  battles,  taken 
nearly  2,000  prisoners,  and  recovered  the  state  of 
New  J ersey.  He  had  cancelled  the  disastrous  effects 
of  Lee’s  treachery,  and  replaced  things  apparently 
in  the  condition  in  which  the  fall  of  Fort  Wash- 
ington had  left  them.  Keally  he  had  done  much 
more  than  this,  for  by  assuming  the  of- 

1 J o Q^ie  taBieg 

fensive  and  winning  victories  through  completely 

. . . ° . _ ® turned. 

sheer  force  of  genius,  he  had  completely 
turned  the  tide  of  popular  feeling.  The  British 
generals  began  to  be  afraid  of  him,  while  on  the 
other  hand  his  army  began  to  grow  by  the  accession 
of  fresh  recruits.  In  New  Jersey,  the  enemy  re- 
tained nothing  but  New  Brunswick,  Amboy,  and 
Paulus  Hook. 

On  the  25th  of  January  Washington  issued  a 


236 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION . 


proclamation  declaring  that  all  persons  who  had 
accepted  Lord  Howe’s  offer  of  protection  must 
either  retire  within  the  British  lines,  or  come  for- 
ward and  take  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  United 
States.  Many  narrow-minded  people,  who  did  not 
look  with  favour  upon  a close  federation  of  the 
states,  commented  severely  upon  the  form  of  this 
proclamation  : it  was  too  national,  they  said.  But 
it  proved  effective.  However  lukewarm  may  have 
been  the  interest  which  many  of  the  Jersey  peo- 
ple felt  in  the  war  when  their  soil  was  first  in- 
vaded, the  conduct  of  the  British  troops  had  been 
such  that  every  one  now  looked  upon  them  as 
foreign  enemies.  They  had  not  only  foraged  in- 
discriminately upon  friend  and  foe,  but  they  had 
set  fire  to  farmhouses,  murdered  peaceful  citizens, 
and  violated  women.  The  wrath  of  the  people, 
kindled  by  such  outrages,  had  waxed  so  hot  that 
it  was  not  safe  for  the  British  to  stir  beyond  their 
narrow  lines  except  in  considerable  force.  Their 
foraging  parties  were  waylaid  and  cut  off  by  bands 
of  indignant  yeomanry,  and  so  sorely  were  they 
harassed  in  their  advanced  position  at  New  Bruns- 
wick that  they  often  suffered  from  want  of  food. 
Many  of  the  German  mercenaries,  caring  nothing 
for  the  cause  in  which  they  had  been  forcibly  en- 
listed, began  deserting ; and  in  this  they  were  en- 
couraged by  Congress,  which  issued  a manifesto  in 
German,  making  a liberal  offer  of  land  to  any  for- 
eign soldier  who  should  leave  the  British  service. 
This  little  document  was  inclosed  in  the  wrappers 
in  which  packages  of  tobacco  were  sold,  and  every 
now  and  then  some  canny  smoker  accepted  the 
offer. 


FIRST  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE. 


237 


Washington’s  position  at  Morristown  was  so 
strong  that  there  was  no  hope  of  dislodging  him, 
and  the  snow-blocked  roads  made  the  difficulties 
of  a winter  campaign  so  great  that  Howe  thought 
best  to  wait  for  warm  weather  before  doing  any- 
thing more.  While  the  British  arms  were  thus 
held  in  check,  the  friends  of  America,  both  in 
England  and  on  the  continent  of  Europe,  were 
greatly  encouraged.  From  this  moment  Wash- 
ington was  regarded  in  Europe  as  a firstrate  gen- 
eral. Military  critics  who  were  capable 

1 Washington’s 

oi  understanding  ms  movements  com-  superb  gen- 

eralship. 

pared  his  brilliant  achievements  with 
his  slender  resources,  and  discovered  in  him  genius 
of  a high  order.  Men  began  to  call  him  “ the 
American  Fabius ; ” and  this  epithet  was  so  pleas- 
ing to  his  fellow-countrymen,  in  that  pedantic  age, 
that  it  clung  to  him  for  the  rest  of  his  life,  and  was 
repeated  in  newspapers  and  speeches  and  pamphlets 
with  wearisome  iteration.  Yet  there  was  some- 
thing more  than  Fabian  in  Washington’s  general- 
ship. For  wariness  he  has  never  been  surpassed ; 
yet,  as  Colonel  Stedman  observed,  in  his  excellent 
contemporary  history  of  the  war,  the  most  remark- 
able thing  about  Washington  was  his  courage.  It 
would  be  hard  indeed  to  find  more  striking  exam- 
ples of  audacity  than  he  exhibited  at  Trenton  and 
Princeton.  Lord  Cornwallis  was  no  mean  antag- 
onist, and  no  one  was  a better  judge  of  what  a 
commander  might  be  expected  to  do  with  a given 
stock  of  resources.  His  surprise  at  the  Assunpink 
was  so  great  that  he  never  got  over  it.  After 
the  surrender  at  Yorktown,  it  is  said  that  his  lord* 


238 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


ship  expressed  to  Washington  his  generous  admira- 
tion for  the  wonderful  skill  which  had  suddenly 
hurled  an  army  four  hundred  miles,  from  the  Hud- 
son river  to  the  James,  with  such  precision  and 
such  deadly  effect.  “But  after  all,”  he  added, 
“your  excellency’s  achievements  in  New  Jersey 
were  such  that  nothing  could  surpass  them.”  The 
man  who  had  turned  the  tables  on  him  at  the  As- 
sunpink  he  could  well  believe  to  be  capable  of  any- 
thing. 

In  England  the  effect  of  the  campaign  was  very 
serious.  Not  long  before,  Edmund  Burke  had 
despondingly  remarked  that  an  army  which  was 
always  obliged  to  refuse  battle  could  never  expel 
the  invaders;  but  now  the  case  wore  a different 
aspect.  Sir  William  Howe  had  not  so  much  to 
show  for  his  red  ribbon,  after  all.  He  had  taken 
New  York,  and  dealt  many  heavy  blows  with  his 
overwhelming  force,  unexpectedly  aided  by  foul 
play  on  the  American  side ; but  as  for  crushing 
Washington  and  ending  the  war,  he  seemed  farther 
from  it  than  ever.  It  would  take  another  cam- 
paign to  do  this,  — perhaps  many.  Lord  North, 
who  had  little  heart  for  the  war  at  any  time,  was 
discouraged,  while  the  king  and  Lord  George  Ger- 
main were  furious  with  disappointment.  “ It  was 
that  unhappy  affair  of  Trenton,”  observed  the  lat- 
ter, “ that  blasted  our  hopes.” 

In  France  the  interest  in  American  affairs  grew 
rapidly.  Louis  XYI.  had  no  love  for  Americans 
or  for  rebels,  but  revenge  for  the  awful  disasters 
of  1758  and  1759  was  dear  to  the  French  heart. 
France  felt  toward  England  then  as  she  feels 


FIRST  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE . 


239 


toward  Germany  now,  and  so  long  ago  as  the  time 
of  the  Stamp  Act,  Baron  Kalb  had  been  sent  on 
a secret  mission  to  America,  to  find  out  how  the 
people  regarded  the  British  government.  The  pol- 
icy of  the  French  ministry  was  aided  by  the  ro- 
mantic sympathy  for  America  which  was  felt  in 
polite  society.  Never  perhaps  have  the  opinions 
current  among  fashionable  ladies  and  gentlemen 
been  so  directly  controlled  by  philosophers  and 
scholars  as  in  France  during  the  latter  half  of  the 
eighteenth  century.  Never  perhaps  have  men  of 
letters  exercised  such  mighty  influence  over  their 
contemporaries  as  Voltaire,  with  his  noble  enthusi- 
asm for  humanity,  and  Rousseau,  with  his  startling 
political  paradoxes,  and  the  writers  of  the  “ Ency- 
clopedic,” with  their  revelations  of  new  points  of 
view  in  science  and  in  history.  To  such  men  as  these, 
and  to  such  profound  political  thinkers  as  Montes- 
quieu and  Turgot,  the  preservation  and  extension 
of  English  liberty  was  the  hope  of  the  world;  but 
they  took  little  interest  in  the  British  crown  or  in 
the  imperial  supremacy  of  Parliament.  All  there- 
fore sympathized  with  the  Americans  and  urged  on 
the  policy  which  the  court  for  selfish  reasons  was 
inclined  to  pursue.  Vergennes,  the  astute  minister 
of  foreign  affairs,  had  for  some  time  been  waiting 
for  a convenient  opportunity  to  take  part  in  the 
struggle,  but  as  yet  he  had  contented  himself  with 
furnishing  secret  assistance.  For  more  than  a 
year  he  had  been  intriguing,  through  Beaumar- 
chais, the  famous  author  of  “ Figaro,”  with  Arthur 
Lee  (a  brother  of  Richard  Henry  Lee),  who  had 
long  served  in  London  as  agent  for  Virginia.  Just 


240 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


before  the  Declaration  of  Independence  Yergennes 
sent  over  a million  dollars  to  aid  the  American 
cause.  Soon  afterwards  Congress  sent  Silas  Deane 
to  Paris,  and  presently  ordered  Arthur  Lee  to  join 
him  there.  In  October  Franklin  was  also  sent 
over,  and  the  three  were  appointed  commissioners 
for  making  a treaty  of  alliance  with  the  French 
court. 

The  arrival  of  Franklin  was  the  occasion  of 
great  excitement  in  the  fashionable  world  of  Paris. 
By  thinkers  like  Diderot  and  D’Alembert  he  was 
regarded  as  the  embodiment  of  practical  wisdom. 
To  many  he  seemed  to  sum  up  in  himself  the  ex- 
cellences of  the  American  cause, — justice,  good 
sense,  and  moderation.  Voltaire  spoke  quite  un- 
consciously of  the  American  army  as  “ Franklin’s 
troops.”  It  was  Turgot  who  said  of  him,  in  a line 
which  is  one  of  the  finest  modern  specimens  of 
epigrammatic  Latin,  “ Eripuit  coelo  fulmen,  scep- 
trumque  tyrannis.”  As  symbolizing  the  liberty 
for  which  all  France  was  yearning,  he  was  greeted 
with  a popular  enthusiasm  such  as  perhaps  no 
Frenchman  except  Voltaire  has  ever  called  forth. 
As  he  passed  along  the  streets,  the  shopkeepers 
rushed  to  their  doors  to  catch  a glimpse  of  him, 
while  curious  idlers  crowded  the  sidewalk.  The 
charm  of  his  majestic  and  venerable  figure  seemed 
heightened  by  the  republican  simplicity  of  his 
plain  brown  coat,  over  the  shoulders  of  which  his 
long  gray  hair  fell  carelessly,  innocent  of  queue  or 
powder.  His  portrait  was  hung  in  the  shop-win- 
dows and  painted  in  miniature  on  the  covers  of 
snuff-boxes.  Gentlemen  wore  “ Franklin  ” hats. 


FIRST  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  241 

ladies’  kid  gloves  were  dyed  of  a “Franklin” 
hue,  and  cotelettes  a la  Franklin  were  served  at 
fashionable  dinners. 

As  the  first  fruits  of  Franklin’s  negotiations,  the 
French  government  agreed  to  furnish  two  million 
livres  a year,  in  quarterly  instalments,  to  assist 
the  American  cause.  Three  ships,  laden  with  mil- 
itary stores,  were  sent  over  to  America : one  was 
captured  by  a British  cruiser,  but  the  other  two  ar- 
rived safely.  The  Americans  were  allowed  to  fit 
out  privateers  in  French  ports,  and  even  to  bring 
in  and  sell  their  prizes  there.  Besides  this  a mil- 
lion livres  were  advanced  to  the  commissioners  on 
account  of  a quantity  of  tobacco  which  they  agreed 
to  send  in  exchange.  Further  than  this  France 
was  not  yet  ready  to  go.  The  British  ambassador 
had  already  begun  to  protest  against  the  violation 
of  neutrality  involved  in  the  departure  of  priva- 
teers, and  France  was  not  willing  to  run  the  risk 
of  open  war  with  England  until  it  should  become 
clear  that  the  Americans  would  prove  efficient 
allies.  The  king,  moreover,  sympathized  with 
George  III.,  and  hated  the  philosophers  whose 
opinions  swayed  the  French  people ; and  in  order 
to  accomplish  anything  in  behalf  of  the  Americans 
he  had  to  be  coaxed  or  bullied  at  every  step. 

But  though  the  French  government  was  not  yet 
ready  to  send  troops  to  America,  volunteers  were 
not  wanting  who  cast  in  their  lot  with  us  through 
a purely  disinterested  enthusiasm.  At  a dinner 
party  in  Metz,  the  Marquis  de  Lafayette,  then  a 
boy  of  nineteen,  heard  the  news  from  America, 
and  instantly  resolved  to  leave  his  pleasant  home 


242 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


and  offer  his  services  to  Washington.  He  fitted 
up  a ship  at  his  own  expense,  loaded  it  with  mili- 
tary stores  furnished  by  Beaumarchais,  and  set 
sail  from  Bordeaux  on  the  26th  of  April,  taking 
with  him  Kalb  and  eleven  other  officers.  While 
Marie  Antoinette  applauded  his  generous  self-de- 
votion, the  king  forbade  him  to  go,  but  he  disre- 
garded the  order.  His  young  wife,  whom  he 
deemed  it  prudent  to  leave  behind,  he  consoled 
with  the  thought  that  the  future  welfare  of  all 
mankind  was  at  stake  in  the  struggle  for  constitu- 
tional liberty  which  was  going  on  in  America,  and 
that  where  he  saw  a chance  to  be  useful  it  was  his 
duty  to  go.  The  able  Polish  officers,  Pulaski  and 
Kosciusko  had  come  some  time  before. 

During  the  winter  season  at  Morristown,  Wash- 
ington was  busy  in  endeavouring  to  recruit  and  re- 
organize the  army.  Up  to  this  time  the  military 
preparations  of  Congress  had  been  made  upon  a 
ludicrously  inadequate  scale.  There  had  been  no 
serious  attempt  to  create  a regular  army,  but 
squads  of  militia  had  been  enlisted  for  terms  of 
three  or  six  months,  as  if  there  were  any  likelihood 
of  the  war  being  ended  within  such  a period.  The 
rumour  of  Lord  Howe’s  olive-branch  policy  may  at 
first  have  had  something  to  do  with  this,  and  even 
after  the  Declaration  of  Independence  had  made 
further  temporizing  impossible,  there  were  many 
who  expected  Washington  to  perform  miracles  and 
thought  that  by  some  crushing  blow  the  invaders 
might  soon  be  brought  to  terms.  But  the  events 
of  the  autumn  had  shown  that  the  struggle  was 
likely  to  prove  long  and  desperate,  and  there  could 


FIRST  BLOW  AT  TEE  CENTRE.  243 


be  no  doubt  as  to  the  imperative  need  of  a regular 
army.  To  provide  such  an  army  was,  however,  no 
easy  task.  The  Continental  Congress  was  little 
more  than  an  advisory  body  of  delegates,  and  it 
was  questionable  how  far  it  could  exercise  author- 
ity except  as  regarded  the  specific  points  which  the 
constituents  of  these  delegates  had  in  view  when 
they  chose  them.  Congress  could  only  recommend 
to  the  different  states  to  raise  their  respective  quo- 
tas of  men,  and  each  state  gave  heed  to  such  a re- 
quest according  to  its  ability  or  its  inclination. 
All  over  the  country  there  was  then,  as  always, 
a deep-rooted  prejudice  against  standing  armies. 
Even  to-day,  with  our  population  of  sixty-five  mil- 
lions, a proposal  to  increase  our  regular  army  to 
fifty  thousand  men,  for  the  more  efficient  police  of 
the  Indian  districts  in  Arizona  and  Montana,  has 
been  greeted  by  the  press  with  tirades  about  mili- 
tary despotism.  A century  ago  this  feeling  was 
naturally  much  stronger  than  it  is  to-day.  The 
presence  of  standing  armies  in  this  country  had 
done  much  toward  bringing  on  the  Revolution ; 
and  it  was  not  until  it  had  become  evident  that 
we  must  either  endure  the  king’s  regulars  or  have 
regulars  of  our  own  that  the  people  could  be  made 
to  adopt  the  latter  alternative.  Under  the  influ- 
ence of  these  feelings,  the  state  militias  were  en- 
listed for  very  short  terms,  each  under  its  local 
officers,  so  that  they  resembled  a group  of  little 
allied  armies.  Such  methods  were  fatal  to  military 
discipline.  Such  soldiers  as  had  remained  in  the 
army  ever  since  it  first  gathered  itself  together 
on  the  day  of  Lexington  had  now  begun  to  learn 


244  THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


something  of  military  discipline  ; but  it  was  impos- 
sible to  maintain  it  in  the  face  of  the  much  greater 
number  who  kept  coming  and  going  at  intervals  of 
three  months.  With  such  fluctuations  in  strength, 
moreover,  it  was  difficult  to  carry  out  any  series  of 
military  operations.  The  Christmas  night  when 
Washington  crossed  the  Delaware  was  the  most 
critical  moment  of  his  career  ; for  the  terms  of  ser- 
vice of  the  greater  part  of  his  little  army  expired 
on  New  Year’s  Day,  and  but  for  the  success  at 
Trenton,  they  would  almost  certainly  have  dis- 
banded. But  in  the  exultant  mood  begotten  of 
this  victory,  they  were  persuaded  to  remain  for 
some  weeks  longer,  thus  enabling  Washington  to 
recover  the  state  of  New  Jersey.  So  low  had  the 
public  credit  sunk,  at  this  season  of  disaster,  that 
Washington  pledged  his  private  fortune  for  the 
payment  of  these  men,  in  case  Congress  should  be 
found  wanting ; and  his  example  was  followed  by 
the  gallant  John  Stark  and  other  officers.  Except 
for  the  sums  raised  by  Robert  Morris  of  Philadel- 
phia, even  Washington  could  not  have  saved  the 
country. 

Another  source  of  weakness  was  the  intense  dis- 
like and  jealousy  with  which  the  militia  of  the  dif- 
ferent states  regarded  each  other.  Their  alliance 
against  the  common  enemy  had  hitherto  done  little 
more  toward  awakening  a cordial  sympathy  between 
the  states  than  the  alliance  of  Athenians  with  Lace- 
daemonians against  the  Great  King  accomplished 
toward  ensuring  peace  and  good-will  throughout 
the  Hellenic  world.  Politically  the  men  of  Vir- 
ginia had  thus  far  acted  in  remarkable  harmony 


FIRST  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  245 

with  the  men  of  New  England,  but  socially  there 
was  but  little  fellowship  between  them.  In  those 
days  of  slow  travel  the  plantations  of  Virginia 
were  much  more  remote  from  Boston  than  they 
now  are  from  London,  and  the  generalizations 
which  the  one  people  used  to  make  about  the 
other  were,  if  possible,  even  more  crude  than  those 
which  Englishmen  and  Americans  are  apt  to  make 
about  each  other  at  the  present  day.  To  the 
stately  elegance  of  the  Virginian  country  mansion 
it  seemed  right  to  sneer  at  New  England  mer- 
chants and  farmers  as  “ shopkeepers  ” and  “ peas- 
ants,” while  many  people  in  Boston  regarded 
Virginian  planters  as  mere  Squire  W esterns.  Be- 
tween the  eastern  and  the  middle  states,  too,  there 
was  much  ill-will,  because  of  theological  differences 
and  boundary  disputes.  The  Puritan  of  New 
Hampshire  had  not  yet  made  up  his  quarrel  with 
the  Churchman  of  New  York  concerning  the  own- 
ership of  the  Green  Mountains ; and  the  wrath  of 
the  Pennsylvania  Quaker  waxed  hot  against  the 
Puritan  of  Connecticut  who  dared  claim  jurisdic- 
tion over  the  valley  of  Wyoming.  We  shall  find 
such  animosities  bearing  bitter  fruit  in  personal 
squabbles  among  soldiers  and  officers,  as  well  as  in 
removals  and  appointments  of  officers  for  reasons 
which  had  nothing  to  do  with  their  military  com- 
petence. Even  in  the  highest  ranks  of  the  army 
and  in  Congress  these  local  prejudices  played  their 
part  and  did  no  end  of  mischief. 

From  the  outset  Washington  had  laboured  with 
Congress  to  take  measures  to  obviate  these  alarm- 
ing difficulties.  In  the  midst  of  his  retreat  through 


246  THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 

the  Jerseys  he  declared  that  “ short  enlistments 
and  a mistaken  dependence  upon  militia  have  been 
the  origin  of  all  our  misfortunes,”  and  at  the  same 
time  he  recommended  that  a certain  number  of 
battalions  should  be  raised  directly  by  the  United 
States,  comprising  volunteers  drawn  indiscrimi- 
nately from  the  several  states.  These  measures 
were  adopted  by  Congress,  and  at  the  same  time 
Washington  was  clothed  with  almost  dictatorial 
powers.  It  was  decided  that  the  army  of  state 
troops  should  be  increased  to  66,000  men,  divided 
into  eighty-eight  battalions,  of  which  Massachusetts 
and  Virginia  were  each  to  contribute  fifteen,  “ Penn- 
sylvania twelve,  North  Carolina  nine,  Connecticut 
eight,  South  Carolina  six,  New  York  and  New  Jer- 
sey four  each,  New  Hampshire  and  Maryland  three 
each,  Rhode  Island  two,  Delaware  and  Georgia 
each  one.”  The  actual  enlistments  fell  very  far 
short  of  this  number  of  men,  and  the  proportions 
assigned  by  Congress,  based  upon  the  population  of 
the  several  states,  were  never  heeded.  The  men 
now  enlisted  were  to  serve  during  the  war,  and 
were  to  receive  at  the  end  a hundred  acres  of  land 
each  as  bounty.  Colonels  were  to  have  a bounty 
of  five  hundred  acres,  and  inferior  officers  were  to 
receive  an  intermediate  quantity.  Even  with 
these  offers  it  was  found  hard  to  persuade  men  to 
enlist  for  the  war,  so  that  it  was  judged  best  to 
allow  the  recruit  his  choice  of  serving  for  three 
years  and  going  home  empty-handed,  or  staying 
till  the  war  should  end  in  the  hope  of  getting  a 
new  farm  for  one  of  his  children.  All  this  enlist- 
ing was  to  be  done  by  the  several  states,  which 


FIRST  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  24? 


were  also  to  clothe  and  arm  their  recruits,  but  the 
money  for  their  equipments,  as  well  as  for  the 
payment  and  support  of  the  troops,  was  to  be  fur- 
nished by  Congress.  Officers  were  to  be  selected 
by  the  states,  but  formally  commissioned  by  Con- 
gress. At  the  same  time  Washington  was  author- 
ized to  raise  sixteen  battalions  of  infantry,  contain- 
ing 12,000  men,  three  regiments  of  artillery,  3,000 
light  cavalry,  and  a corps  of  engineers.  These 
forces  were  to  be  enlisted  under  Washington’s  di- 
rection, in  the  name  of  the  United  States,  and 
were  to  be  taken  indiscriminately  from  all  parts  of 
the  country.  Their  officers  were  to  be  appointed 
by  Washington,  who  was  furthermore  empowered 
to  fill  all  vacancies  and  remove  any  officer  below 
the  rank  of  brigadier-general  in  any  department 
of  the  army.  W ashington  was  also  authorized  to 
take  whatever  private  property  might  anywhere  be 
needed  for  the  army,  allowing  a fair  compensation 
to  the  owners ; and  he  was  instructed  to  arrest  at 
his  own  discretion,  and  hold  for  trial  by  the  civil 
courts,  any  person  who  should  refuse  to  take  the 
continental  paper  money,  or  otherwise  manifest  a 
want  of  sympathy  with  the  American  cause. 

These  extraordinary  powers,  which  at  the  dark- 
est moment  of  the  war  were  conferred  upon  Wash- 
ington for  a period  of  six  months,  occasioned  much 
grumbling,  but  it  does  not  appear  that  any  specific 
difficulty  ever  arose  through  the  way  in  which  they 
were  exercised.  It  would  be  as  hard,  perhaps,  to 
find  any  strictly  legal  justification  for  the  creation 
of  a Continental  army  as  it  would  be  to  tell  just 
where  the  central  government  of  the  United  States 


248 


THE  AMEBIC  AN  REVOLUTION. 


was  to  be  found  at  that  time.  Strictly  speaking, 
no  central  government  had  as  yet  been  formed. 
No  articles  of  confederation  had  yet  been  adopted 
by  the  states,  and  the  authority  of  the  Continental 
Congress  had  been  in  nowise  defined.  It  was  gen- 
erally felt,  however,  that  the  Congress  now  sitting 
had  been  chosen  for  the  purpose  of  representing 
the  states  in  their  relations  to  the  British  crown. 
This  Congress  had  been  expressly  empowered  to 
declare  the  states  independent  of  Great  Britain, 
and  to  wage  war  for  the  purpose  of  making  good 
its  declaration.  And  it  was  accordingly  felt  that 
Congress  was  tacitly  authorized  to  take  such  meas- 
ures as  were  absolutely  needful  for  the  mainte- 
nance of  the  struggle.  The  enlistment  of  a Conti- 
nental force  was  therefore  an  act  done  under  an 
implied  “ war  power,”  something  like  the  power 
invoked  at  a later  day  to  justify  the  edict  by  which 
President  Lincoln  emancipated  the  slaves.  The 
thoroughly  English  political  genius  of  the  Ameri- 
can people  teaches  them  when  and  how  to  tolerate 
such  anomalies,  and  has  more  than  once  enabled 
them  safely  to  cut  the  Gordian  knot  which  mere 
logic  could  not  untie  if  it  were  to  fumble  till 
doomsday.  In  the  second  year  after  Lexington 
the  American  commonwealths  had  already  entered 
upon  the  path  of  their  “ manifest  destiny,”  and 
were  becoming  united  into  one  political  body 
faster  than  the  people  could  distinctly  realize. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


SECOND  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE. 

Ever  since  the  failure  of  the  American  invasion 
of  Canada,  it  had  been  the  intention  of  Sir  Guy 
Carleton,  in  accordance  with  the  wishes  of  the  min- 
ister, to  invade  New  York  by  way  of  Lake  Cham- 
plain, and  to  secure  the  Mohawk  valley  and  the 
upper  waters  of  the  Hudson.  The  summer  of 
1776  had  been  employed  by  Carleton  in  getting 
together  a fleet  with  which  to  obtain 

_ » _ _ _ _ ..  Carleton  in- 

control  ot  the  lake.  It  was  an  arduous  vades  New 
task.  Three  large  vessels  were  sent 
over  from  England,  and  proceeded  up  the  St.  Law- 
rence as  far  as  the  rapids,  where  they  were  taken 
to  pieces,  carried  overland  to  St.  John’s,  and  there 
put  together  again.  Twenty  gunboats  and  more 
than  two  hundred  flat-bottomed  transports  were 
built  at  Montreal,  and  manned  with  700  picked 
seamen  and  gunners ; and  upon  this  flotilla  Carle- 
ton embarked  his  army  of  12,000  men. 

To  oppose  the  threatened  invasion,  Benedict 
Arnold  had  been  working  all  the  summer  with 
desperate  energy.  In  June  the  materials  for  his 
navy  were  growing  in  the  forests  of  Vermont, 
while  his  carpenters  with  their  tools,  his  sailmakers 
with  their  canvas,  and  his  gunners  with  their  guns 
had  mostly  to  be  brought  from  the  coast  towns  of 


250 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


Connecticut  and  Massachusetts.  By  the  end  of 
September  he  had  built  a little  fleet  of  three 
schooners,  two  sloops,  three  galleys,  and  eight  gon- 
dolas, and  fitted  it  out  with  seventy  guns  and  such 
seamen  and  gunners  as  he  could  get  together. 
With  this  flotilla  he  could  not  hope  to  prevent  the 
advance  of  such  an  overwhelming  force  as  that  of 
the  enemy.  The  most  he  could  do  would  be  to 
Arnold’s  worry  and  delay  it,  besides  raising  the 
preparations,  spirits  of  the  people  by  the  example  of 
an  obstinate  and  furious  resistance.  To  allow 
Carleton  to  reach  Ticonderoga  without  opposition 
would  be  disheartening,  whereas  by  delay  and  vex- 
ation he  might  hope  to  dampen  the  enthusiasm  of 
the  invader.  With  this  end  in  view,  Arnold  pro- 
ceeded down  the  lake  far  to  the  north  of  Crown 
Point,  and  taking  up  a strong  position  between 
Valcour  Island  and  the  western  shore,  so  that 
both  his  wings  were  covered  and  he  could  be  at- 
tacked only  in  front,  he  lay  in  wait  for  the  enemy. 
James  Wilkinson,  who  twenty  years  afterward  be- 
came commander -in -chief  of  the  American  army, 
and  survived  the  second  war  with  England,  was 
then  at  Ticonderoga,  on  Gates’s  staff.  Though 
personally  hostile  to  Arnold,  he  calls  attention  in 
his  Memoirs  to  the  remarkable  skill  exhibited  in 
the  disposition  of  the  little  fleet  at  Yalcour  Island, 
which  was  the  same  in  principle  as  that  by  which 
Macdonough  won  his  brilliant  victory,  not  far  from 
the  same  spot,  in  1814. 

On  the  11th  of  October,  Sir  Guy  Carleton’s 
squadron  approached,  and  there  ensued  the  first 
battle  fought  between  an  American  and  a British 


SECOND  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  251 


fleet.  At  sundown,  after  a desperate  fight  of  seven 
hours’  duration,  the  British  withdrew  _ „ , 

out  of  range,  intending  to  renew  the 
struggle  in  the  morning.  Both  fleets 
had  suffered  severely,  but  the  Americans  were  so 
badly  cut  up  that  Carleton  expected  to  force  their 
rear  the  next  day,  and  capture  them.  But  Arnold, 
during  the  hazy  night,  by  a feat  scarcely  less 
remarkable  than  Washington’s  retreat  from  Long 
Island,  contrived  to  slip  through  the  British  line 
with  all  that  was  left  of  his  crippled  flotilla,  and 
made  away  for  Crown  Point  with  all  possible  speed. 
Though  he  once  had  to  stop  to  mend  leaks,  and 
once  to  take  off  the  men  and  guns  from  two  gon- 
dolas which  were  sinking,  he  nevertheless,  by  dint 
of  sailing  and  kedging,  got  such  a start  that  the 
enemy  did  not  overtake  him  until  the  next  day 
but  one,  when  he  was  nearing  Crown  Point.  While 
the  rest  of  the  fleet,  by  Arnold’s  orders,  now 
crowded  sail  for  their  haven,  he  in  his  schooner 
sustained  an  ugly  fight  for  four  hours  with  the 
three  largest  British  vessels,  one  of  which  mounted 
eighteen  twelve-pounders.  His  vessel  was  wofully 
cut  up,  and  her  deck  covered  with  dead  and  dying 
men,  when,  having  sufficiently  delayed  the  enemy, 
he  succeeded  in  running  her  aground  in  a small 
creek,  where  he  set  her  on  fire,  and  she  perished 
gloriously,  with  her  flag  flying  till  the  flames 
brought  it  down.  Then  marching  through  wood- 
land paths  to  Crown  Point,  where  his  other  vessels 
had  now  disembarked  their  men,  he  brought  away 
his  whole  force  in  safety  to  Ticonderoga.  When 
Carleton  appeared  before  that  celebrated  fortress, 


252 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


finding  it  strongly  defended,  and  doubting  his 
ability  to  reduce  it  before  the  setting  in  of  cold 
weather,  he  decided  to  take  his  army  back  to  Can- 
ada, satisfied  for  the  present  with  having  gained 
control  of  Lake  Champlain.  This  sudden  retreat 
of  Carleton  astonished  both  friend  and  foe.  He 
was  blamed  for  it  by  his  generals,  Burgoyne,  Phil- 
lips, and  Kiedesel,  as  well  as  by  the  king;  and 
when  we  see  how  easily  the  fortress  was  seized  by 
Phillips  in  the  following  summer,  we  can  hardly 
doubt  that  it  was  a grave  mistake. 

Arnold  had  now  won  an  enviable  reputation  as 
the  “ bravest  of  the  brave.”  In  his  terrible  march 
through  the  wilderness  of  Maine,  in  the  assault  upon 
Quebec,  and  in  the  defence  of  Lake  Champlain, 
he  had  shown  rare  heroism  and  skill.  The  whole 
country  rang  with  his  praises,  and  Washington 
regarded  him  as  one  of  the  ablest  officers  in  the 
army.  Yet  when  Congress  now  pro- 

Congresspro-  * . . 

motes  five  ju-  ceeded  to  appoint  five  new  maior-gen- 

nior  brigadiers  * ^ , 0 

over  Arnold,  erals,  they  selected  Stirling,  Mifflin,  St. 

Clair,  Stephen,  and  Lincoln,  passing 
over  Arnold,  who  was  the  senior  brigadier.  None 
of  the  generals  named  could  for  a moment  be  com- 
pared with  Arnold  for  ability,  and  this  strange 
action  of  Congress,  coming  soon  after  such  a bril- 
liant exploit,  naturally  hurt  his  feelings  and  greatly 
incensed  him.  Arnold  was  proud  and  irascible  in 
temper,  but  on  this  occasion  he  controlled  himself 
manfully,  and  listened  to  Washington,  who  en- 
treated him  not  to  resign.  So  astonished  was 
Washington  at  the  action  of  Congress  that  at  first 
lie  could  not  believe  it.  He  thought  either  that 


SECOND  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  253 

Arnold  must  really  have  received  a prior  appoint- 
ment, which  for  some  reason  had  not  yet  been 
made  public,  or  else  that  his  name  must  have  been 
omitted  through  some  unaccountable  oversight.  It 
turned  out,  however,  on  further  inquiry,  that  state 
jealousies  had  been  the  cause  of  the  mischief. 
The  reason  assigned  for  ignoring  Arnold’s  services 
was  that  Connecticut  had  already  two  major-gen- 
erals, and  was  not  in  fairness  entitled  to  any  more ! 
But  beneath  this  alleged  reason  there  lurked  a 
deeper  reason,  likewise  founded  in  jealousies  be- 
tween the  states.  The  intrigues  which  soon  after 
disgraced  the  northern  army  and  imperilled  the 
safety  of  the  country  had  already  begun  to  bear 
bitter  fruit.  Since  the  beginning  of  the  war,  Ma- 
jor-General Philip  Schuyler  had  been  in  command 
of  the  northern  department,  with  his  headquarters 
at  Albany,  whence  his  ancestors  had  a century 
before  hurled  defiance  at  Frontenac.  Philip  Schuy. 
His  family  was  one  of  the  most  distin-  ler- 
guished  in  New  York,  and  an  inherited  zeal  for  the 
public  service  thrilled  in  every  drop  of  his  blood. 
No  more  upright  or  disinterested  man  could  be 
found  in  America,  and  for  bravery  and  generosity 
he  was  like  the  paladin  of  some  mediaeval  romance. 
In  spite  of  these  fine  qualities,  he  was  bitterly 
hated  by  the  New  England  men,  who  formed  a 
considerable  portion  of  his  army.  Beside  the 
general  stupid  dislike  which  the  people  of  New 
York  and  of  New  England  then  felt  for  each  other, 
echoes  of  which  are  still  sometimes  heard  nowa- 
days, there  was  a special  reason  for  the  odium 
which  was  heaped  upon  Schuyler.  The  dispute  over 


254 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


the  possession  of  Vermont  had  now  raged  fiercely 
for  thirteen  years,  and  Schuyler,  as  a member  of 
the  New  York  legislature,  had  naturally  been  zeal- 
ous in  urging  the  claims  of  his  own  state.  For 
this  crime  the  men  of  New  England  were  never 
able  to  forgive  him,  and  he  was  pursued  with  vin- 
dictive hatred  until  his  career  as  a general  was 
ruined.  His  orders  were  obeyed  with  sullenness, 
the  worst  interpretation  was  put  upon  every  one 
of  his  acts,  and  evil-minded  busybodies  were  con- 
tinually pouring  into  the  ears  of  Congress  a stream 
of  tattle,  which  gradually  wore  out  their  trust  in 
him. 

The  evil  was  greatly  enhanced  by  the  fact  that 
among  the  generals  of  the  northern  army  there 
was  one  envious  creature  who  was  likely  to  take 
Schuyler’s  place  in  case  he  should  be  ousted  from 
it,  and  who  for  so  desirable  an  object  was  ready  to 
do  any  amount  of  intriguing.  The  part  sustained  by 
Charles  Lee  with  reference  to  Washington  was  to 
Horatio  some  extent  paralleled  here  by  the  part 
sustained  toward  Schuyler  by  Horatio 
Gates.  There  is  indeed  no  reason  for  supposing 
that  Gates  was  capable  of  such  baseness  as  Lee 
exhibited  in  his  willingness  to  play  into  the  hands 
of  the  enemy ; nor  had  he  the  nerve  for  such  pro- 
digious treason  as  that  in  which  Arnold  engaged 
after  his  sympathies  had  become  alienated  from 
the  American  cause.  With  all  his  faults,  Gates 
never  incurred  the  odium  which  belongs  to  a pub- 
lic traitor.  But  his  nature  was  thoroughly  weak 
and  petty,  and  he  never  shrank  from  falsehood 
when  it  seemed  to  serve  his  purpose.  Unlike  Lee, 


SECOND  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  255 

he  was  comely  in  person,  mild  in  disposition,  and 
courteous  in  manner,  except  when  roused  to  anger  or 
influenced  by  spite,  when  he  sometimes  became  very 
violent.  He  never  gave  evidence  either  of  skill  op 
of  bravery ; and  in  taking  part  in  the  war  his  only 
solicitude  seems  to  have  been  for  his  own  personal 
advancement.  In  the  course  of  his  campaigning 
with  the  northern  army,  he  seems  never  once  to 
have  been  under  fire,  but  he  would  incur  no  end  of 
fatigue  to  get  a private  talk  with  a delegate  in 
Congress.  Like  many  others,  he  took  a high  posi- 
tion at  the  beginning  of  the  struggle  simply  be- 
cause he  was  a veteran  of  the  Seven  Years’  War, 
having  been  one  of  the  officers  who  were  brought 
off  in  safety  from  the  wreck  of  Braddock’s  army 
by  the  youthful  skill  and  prowess  of  Washington. 
At  present,  and  until  after  the  end  of  the  Saratoga 
campaign,  such  reputation  as  he  had  was  won  by 
appropriating  the  fame  which  was  earned  by  his 
fellow-generals.  He  was  in  command  at  Ticonder- 
oga  when  Arnold  performed  his  venturesome  feat 
on  Lake  Champlain,  and  when  Carleton  made  his 
blunder  in  not  attacking  the  stronghold ; and  all 
this  story  Gates  told  to  Congress  as  the  story  of 
an  advantage  which  he  had  somehow  gained  over 
Carleton,  at  the  same  time  anxiously  inquiring  if 
Congress  regarded  him,  in  his  remote  position  at 
Ticonderoga,  as  subject  to  the  orders  of  Schuyler 
at  Albany.  Finding  that  he  was  thus  regarded  as 
subordinate,  he  became  restive,  and  seized  the  ear-* 
liest  opportunity  of  making  a visit  to  Congress. 
The  retreat  of  Carleton  enabled  Schuyler  to  send 
seven  regiments  to  the  relief  of  Washington  in 


256 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


New  Jersey,  and  we  have  already  seen  how  Gates, 
on  arriving  with  this  reinforcement,  declined  to 
assist  personally  in  the  Trenton  campaign,  and  took 
the  occasion  to  follow  Congress  in  its  retreat  to 
Baltimore. 

The  winter  seems  to  have  been  spent  in  intrigue. 
Knowing  the  chief  source  of  Schuyler’s  unpopu- 
larity, Gates  made  it  a point  to  declare,  as  often 
„ and  as  loudly  as  possible,  his  belief  that 

Gates  intrigues  ^ A 

against  the  state  of  New  York  had  no  title  to 

Schuyler. 

the  Green  Mountain  country.  In  this 
way  he  won  golden  opinions  from  the  people  of 
New  England,  and  rose  high  in  the  good  graces 
of  such  members  of  Congress  as  Samuel  Adams, 
whose  noble  nature  was  slow  to  perceive  his  mean- 
ness and  duplicity.  The  failure  of  the  invasion  of 
Canada  had  caused  much  chagrin  in  Congress,  and 
it  was  sought  to  throw  the  whole  blame  of  it  upon 
Schuyler  for  having,  as  it  was  alleged,  inadequately 
supported  Montgomery  and  Arnold.  The  unjust 
charge  served  to  arouse  a prejudice  in  many  minds, 
and  during  the  winter  some  irritated  letters  passed 
between  Schuyler  and  Congress,  until  late  in 
March,  1777,  he  obtained  permission  to  visit  Phil- 
adelphia and  vindicate  himself.  On  the  22d  of 
May,  after  a thorough  investigation,  Schuyler’s 
conduct  received  the  full  approval  of  Congress, 
and  he  was  confirmed  in  his  command  of  the  north- 
ern department,  which  was  expressly  defined  as 
including  Lakes  George  and  Champlain,  as  well  as 
the  valleys  of  the  Hudson  and  the  Mohawk. 

The  sensitive  soul  of  Gates  now  took  fresh  of- 
fence. He  had  been  sent  back  in  March  to  his  post 


SECOND  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  257 


at  Ticonderoga,  just  as  Schuyler  was  starting  for 
Philadelphia,  and  he  flattered  himself  with  the  hope 
that  he  would  soon  be  chosen  to  supersede  his  gal- 
lant commander.  Accordingly  when  he  found  that 
Schuyler  had  been  reinstated  in  all  his  old  com- 
mand and  honours,  he  flew  into  a rage,  refused  to 
serve  in  a subordinate  capacity,  wrote  an  impu- 
dent letter  to  Washington,  and  at  last  Gateavisita 
got  permission  to  visit  Congress  again,  Congre8S* 
while  General  St.  Clair  was  appointed  in  his  stead 
to  the  command  of  the  great  northern  fortress. 
On  the  19th  of  June,  Gates  obtained  a hearing 
before  Congress,  and  behaved  with  such  unseemly 
violence  that  after  being  repeatedly  called  to  order, 
he  was  turned  out  of  the  room,  amid  a scene  of 
angry  confusion.  Such  conduct  should  naturally 
have  ruined  his  cause,  but  he  had  made  so  many 
powerful  friends  that  by  dint  of  more  or  less 
apologetic  talk  the  offence  was  condoned. 

Throughout  these  bickerings  Arnold  had  been 

the  steadfast  friend  of  Schuyler ; and  although  his 

brilliant  exploits  had  won  general  admiration  he  did 

not  fail  to  catch  some  of  the  odium  so  plentifully 

bestowed  upon  the  New  York  commander.  In  the 

chaos  of  disappointment  and  wrath  which  ensued 

upon  the  disastrous  retreat  from  Canada  in  1776, 

when  everybody  was  eager  to  punish  somebody  else 

for  the  ill  fortune  which  was  solely  due  to  the  su^ 

perior  resources  of  the  enemy,  Arnold  cj  ^ 

came  in  for  his  share  of  blame.  No  one  against  Ar- 
nold. 

could  find  any  fault  with  his  military  con- 
duct, but  charges  were  brought  against  him  on  the 
ground  of  some  exactions  of  private  property  an 


258 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


Montreal  which  had  been  made  for  the  support  of 
the  army.  A thorough  investigation  of  the  case 
demonstrated  Arnold’s  entire  uprightness  in  the 
matter,  and  the  verdict  of  Congress,  which  declared 
the  charges  to  be  “ cruel  and  unjust,”  was  heartily 
indorsed  by  Washington.  Nevertheless,  in  the 
manifold  complications  of  feeling  which  surrounded 
the  Schuyler  trouble,  these  unjust  charges  suc- 
ceeded in  arousing  a prejudice  which  may  have  had 
something  to  do  with  the  slight  cast  upon  Arnold 
in  the  appointment  of  the  new  major-generals.  In 
the  whole  course  of  American  history  there  are  few 
sadder  chapters  than  this.  Among  the  scandals  of 
this  eventful  winter  we  can  trace  the  beginnings  of 
the  melancholy  chain  of  events  which  by  and  by 
resulted  in  making  the  once  heroic  name  of  Bene- 
dict Arnold  a name  of  opprobrium  throughout  the 
world.  We  already  begin  to  see,  too,  originating 
in  Lee’s  intrigues  of  the  preceding  autumn,  and 
nourished  by  the  troubles  growing  out  of  the  Ver- 
mont quarrel  and  the  ambitious  schemes  of  Gates, 
the  earliest  germs  of  that  faction  which  erelong  was 
to  seek  to  compass  the  overthrow  of  Washington 
himself. 

For  the  present  the  injustice  suffered  by  Arnold 
had  not  wrought  its  darksome  change  in  him.  A 
long  and  complicated  series  of  influences  was  re- 
quired to  produce  that  result.  To  the  earnest  ap- 
peal of  Washington  that  he  should  not  resign  he 
responded  cordially,  declaring  that  no  personal  con- 
siderations should  induce  him  to  stay  at  home  while 
the  interests  of  his  country  were  at  stake.  He  would 
zealously  serve  even  under  his  juniors,  who  had 


SECOND  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  259 


lately  been  raised  above  him,  so  long  as  the  com- 
mon welfare  was  in  danger.  An  oppor- 

. „ . . ° A A Tryon’s  expe- 

tunity  for  active  service  soon  presented  dition  against 

^ A Danbury. 

itself.  Among  the  preparations  for  the 
coming  summer  campaign,  Sir  William  HowO 
thought  it  desirable  to  cripple  the  Americans  by 
seizing  a large  quantity  of  military  stores  which 
had  been  accumulated  at  Danbury  in  Connecticut. 
An  expedition  was  sent  out,  very  much  like  that 
which  at  Lexington  and  Concord  had  ushered  in 
the  war,  and  it  met  with  a similar  reception.  A 
force  of  2,000  men,  led  by  the  royal  governor, 
Tryon,  of  North  Carolina  fame,  landed  at  Fair- 
field,  and  marched  to  Danbury,  where  they  de- 
stroyed the  stores  and  burned  a large  part  of  the 
town.  The  militia  turned  out,  as  on  the  day  of 
Lexington,  led  by  General  Wooster,  who  was  slain 
in  the  first  skirmish.  By  this  time  Arnold,  who 
happened  to  be  visiting  his  children  in  Arnolddefeats 
New  Haven,  had  heard  of  the  affair,  and  SJgeflSd, 
came  upon  the  scene  with  600  men.  At  AprU  27>1777* 
Ridgefield  a desperate  fight  ensued,  in  which  Ar- 
nold had  two  horses  killed  under  him.  The  British 
were  defeated.  By  the  time  they  reached  their 
ships,  200  of  their  number  had  been  killed  or 
wounded,  and,  with  the  yeomanry  swarming  on 
every  side,  they  narrowly  escaped  capture.  For 
his  share  in  this  action  Arnold  was  now  made  a 
major-general,  and  was  presented  by  Congress  with 
a fine  horse ; but  nothing  was  done  towards  restor- 
ing him  to  his  relative  rank,  nor  was  any  expla- 
nation vouchsafed.  Washington  offered  him  the 
command  of  the  Hudson  at  Peekskill,  which  was 


260 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


liable  to  prove  one  of  tbe  important  points  in  the 
ensuing  campaign;  but  Arnold  for  the  moment 
declined  to  take  any  such  position  until  he  should 
have  conferred  with  Congress,  and  fathomed  the 
nature  of  the  difficulties  by  which  he  had  been  be- 
set ; and  so  the  command  of  this  important  position 
was  given  to  the  veteran  Putnam. 

The  time  for  the  summer  campaign  was  now 
at  hand.  The  first  year  of  the  independence  of 
the  United  States  was  nearly  completed,  and  up 
to  this  time  the  British  had  nothing  to  show  for 
their  work  except  the  capture  of  the  city  of  New 
York  and  the  occupation  of  Newport.  The  army 
of  Washington,  which  six  months  ago  they  had 
regarded  as  conquered  and  dispersed,  still  balked 
and  threatened  them  from  its  inexpugnable  posi- 
tion on  the  heights  of  Morristown.  It  was  high 
time  that  something  more  solid  should  be  accom- 
plished, for  every  month  of  adverse  possession 
added  fresh  weight  to  the  American  cause,  and  in* 
creased  the  probability  that  France  would  interfere. 

A decisive  blow  was  accordingly  about  to  ba 
struck.  After  careful  study  by  Lord  George  Ger^ 
main,  and  much  consultation  with  General  Bur, 
goyne,  who  had  returned  to  England  for  the  win, 
ter,  it  was  decided  to  adhere  to  the  plan  of  the 
preceding  year,  with  slight  modifications.  The 
great  object  was  to  secure  firm  possession  of  the 
entire  valley  of  the  Hudson,  together  with  that  of 
the  Mohawk.  It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  at 
this  time  the  inhabited  part  of  the  state  of  New 
York  consisted  almost  entirely  of  the  Mohawk  and 
Hudson  valleys.  All  the  rest  was  unbroken  wil- 


SECOND  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  261 


derness,  save  for  an  occasional  fortified  trading- 
post.  With  a total  population  of  about 

*■  1 A The  military 

170,000,  New  York  ranked  seventh  centre  of  the 

’ # # United  States 

among  the  thirteen  states  ; just  after  was  the  state 

& J of  New  York. 

Maryland  and  Connecticut,  just  before 
South  Carolina.  At  the  same  time,  the  geograph- 
ical position  of  New  York,  whether  from  a com- 
mercial or  from  a military  point  of  view,  was  as 
commanding  then  as  it  has  ever  been.  It  was 
thought  that  so  small  a population,  among  which 
there  were  known  to  be  many  Tories,  might  easily 
be  conquered  and  the  country  firmly  held.  The 
people  of  New  Jersey  and  Pennsylvania  were  re- 
garded as  lukewarm  supporters  of  the  Declaration 
of  Independence,  and  it  was  supposed  that  the 
conquest  of  New  York  might  soon  be  followed  by 
the  subjection  of  these  two  provinces.  With  the 
British  power  thus  thrust,  like  a vast  wedge, 
through  the  centre  of  the  confederacy,  it  would  be 
impossible  for  New  England  to  cooperate  with  the 
southern  states,  and  it  was  hoped  that  the  union 
of  the  colonies  against  the  Crown  would  thus  be 
effectually  broken. 

With  this  object  of  conquering  New  York,  we 
have  seen  Carleton,  in  1776,  approaching  through 
Lake  Champlain,  while  Howe  was  wresting  Man- 
hattan Island  from  Washington.  But  the  plan 
was  imperfectly  conceived,  and  the  cooperation 
was  feeble.  How  feeble  it  was  is  well  shown  by 
the  fact  that  Carleton’s  ill-judged  retreat  from 
Crown  Point  enabled  Schuyler  to  send  reinforce- 
ments to  Washington  in  time  to  take  part  in  the 
great  strokes  at  Trenton  and  Princeton.  Some* 


262 


TIIE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


thing,  however,  had  been  accomplished.  In  spite 
of  Arnold’s  desperate  resistance  and  Washington’s 
consummate  skill,  the  enemy  had  gained  a hold 
upon  both  the  northern  and  the  southern  ends  of 
the  long  line.  But  this  obstinate  resistance  served 
to  some  extent  to  awaken  the  enemy  to  the  arduous 
, ,,  character  of  the  problem.  The  plan 

A second  blow  x e 

to  be  struck  at  was  more  carefully  studied,  and  it  was 

the  centre.  # J 

The  plan  of  intended  that  this  time  the  cooperation 

campaign.  1 

should  be  more  effectual.  In  order  to 
take  possession  of  the  whole  state  by  one  grand 
system  of  operations,  it  was  decided  that  the  inva- 
sion should  be  conducted  by  three  distinct  armies 
operating  upon  converging  lines.  A strong  force 
from  Canada  was  to  take  Ticonderoga,  and  pro- 
ceed down  the  line  of  the  Hudson  to  Albany. 
This  force  was  now  to  be  commanded  by  General 
Burgoyne,  while  his  superior  officer,  General  Carle- 
ton,  remained  at  Quebec.  A second  and  much 
smaller  force,  under  Colonel  St.  Leger,  was  to  go 
up  the  St.  Lawrence  to  Lake  Ontario,  land  at  Os- 
wego, and,  with  the  aid  of  Sir  John  Johnson  and 
the  Indians,  reduce  Fort  Stanwix ; after  which  he 
was  to  come  down  the  Mohawk  valley  and  unite 
his  forces  with  those  of  Burgoyne.  At  the  same 
time,  Sir  William  Howe  was  to  ascend  the  Hud- 
son with  the  main  army,  force  the  passes  of  the 
Highlands  at  Peekskill,  and  effect  a junction  with 
Burgoyne  at  Albany.  The  junction  of  the  three 
armies  was  expected  to  complete  the  conquest  of 
New  York,  and  to  insure  the  overthrow  of  Ameri- 
can independence. 

Such  was  the  plan  of  campaign  prepared  by  the 


burgoyne’s  campaign 

JULY-OCTOBER,  1777 


BE  LtP«**Y 
Of  lot  . 

BWVERilTK  OF  ILL1IMMS 


SECOND  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  263 


ministry.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  it  was  care- 
fully studied,  or  that,  if  successful,  it  would  have 
proved  very  disastrous  to  the  Americans.  There 
is  room  for  very  grave  doubt,  however,  as  to 
whether  it  was  the  most  judicious  plan  to  adopt. 
The  method  of  invading  any  country  by  distinct 
forces  operating  upon  converging  lines  is  open  to 
the  objection  that  either  force  is  liable  to  be  sepa- 
rately overwhelmed  without  the  possibility  of  rein- 
forcement from  the  other.  Such  a plan  The  plan  was 
is  prudent  only  when  the  invaded  coun-  unsound- 
try  has  good  roads,  and  when  the  invaders  have  a 
great  superiority  in  force,  as  was  the  case  when 
the  allied  armies  advanced  upon  Paris  in  1814. 
In  northern  and  central  New  York,  in  1777,  the 
conditions  were  very  unfavourable  to  such  a plan. 
The  distances  to  be  traversed  were  long,  and  the 
roads  were  few  and  bad.  Except  in  the  immediate 
neighbourhood  of  Albany  and  Saratoga,  the  coun- 
try was  covered  with  the  primeval  forest,  through 
which  only  the  trapper  and  the  savage  could  make 
their  way  with  speed.  The  Americans,  too,  had 
the  great  advantage  of  operating  upon  interior 
lines.  It  was  difficult  for  Burgoyne  at  Fort  Ed- 
ward, St.  Leger  before  Fort  Stanwix,  and  Howe  in 
the  city  of  New  York  to  communicate  with  each 
other  at  all ; it  was  impossible  for  them  to  do  so 
promptly ; whereas  nothing  could  be  easier  than 
for  Washington  at  Morristown  to  reach  Putnam  at 
Peekskill,  or  for  Putnam  to  forward  troops  to 
Schuyler  at  Albany,  or  for  Schuyler  to  send  out  a 
force  to  raise  the  siege  of  Fort  Stanwix.  In  view 
of  these  considerations,  it  seems  probable  that 


264 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


Lord  George  Germain  would  have  acted  more 
wisely  if  he  had  sent  Burgoyne  with  his  army  di- 
rectly by  sea  to  reinforce  Sir  William  Howe. 
The  army  thus  united,  and  numbering  more  than 
30,000  men,  would  have  been  really  formidable. 
If  they  had  undertaken  to  go  up  the  river  to  Al- 
bany, it  would  have  been  hard  to  prevent  them. 
If  their  united  presence  at  Albany  was  the  great 
object  of  the  campaign,  there  was  no  advantage  in 
sending  one  commander  to  reach  it  by  a difficult 
and  dangerous  overland  march.  The  Hudson  is 
navigable  by  large  vessels  all  the  way  to  Albany, 
and  by  advancing  in  this  way  the  army  might  have 
preserved  its  connections ; and  whatever  disaster 
might  have  befallen,  it  would  have  been  difficult 
for  the  Americans  to  surround  and  capture  so 
large  a force.  Once  arrived  at  Albany,  the  expe- 
dition of  St.  Leger  might  have  set  out  from  that 
point  as  a matter  of  subsequent  detail,  and  would 
have  had  a base  within  easy  distance  upon  which 
to  fall  back  in  case  of  defeat. 

It  does  not  appear,  therefore,  that  there  were 
any  advantages  to  be  gained  by  Burgoyne’s  ad- 
vance from  the  north  which  can  be  regarded  as 
commensurate  with  the  risk  which  he  incurred. 
To  have  transferred  the  northern  army  from  the 
St.  Lawrence  to  the  Hudson  by  sea  would  have 
been  far  easier  and  safer  than  to  send  it  through 
a hundred  miles  of  wilderness  in  northern  New 
York ; and  whatever  it  could  have  effected  in  the 
interior  of  the  state  could  have  been  done  as  well 
in  the  former  case  as  in  the  latter.  But  these  con- 
siderations do  not  seem  to  have  occurred  to  Lord 


SECOND  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE. 


265 


George  Germain.  In  the  wars  with  the  French, 
the  invading  armies  from  Canada  had  always  come 
by  way  of  Lake  Champlain,  so  that  this  route  was 
accepted  without  question,  as  if  consecrated  by 
long  usage.  Through  a similar  association  of  ideas 
an  exaggerated  importance  was  attached  to  the 
possession  of  Ticonderoga.  The  risks  Germaine’B 
of  the  enterprise,  moreover,  were  greatly  fatal  error* 
underestimated.  In  imagining  that  the  routes  of 
Burgoyne  and  St.  Leger  would  lie  through  a 
friendly  country,  the  ministry  fatally  misconceived 
the  whole  case.  There  was,  indeed,  a powerful 
Tory  party  in  the  country,  just  as  in  the  days  of 
Robert  Bruce  there  was  an  English  party  in  Scot- 
land, just  as  in  the  days  of  Miltiades  there  was  a 
Persian  party  in  Attika.  But  no  one  has  ever 
doubted  that  the  victors  at  Marathon  and  at  Ban- 
nockburn went  forth  with  a hearty  godspeed  from 
their  fellow-countrymen  ; and  the  obstinate  resist- 
ance encountered  by  St.  Leger,  within  a short  dis- 
tance of  Johnson’s  Tory  stronghold,  is  an  eloquent 
commentary  upon  the  error  of  the  ministry  in  the 
estimate  of  the  actual  significance  of  the  loyalist 
element  on  the  New  York  frontier. 

It  thus  appears  that  in  the  plan  of  a triple  invar 
sion  upon  converging  lines  the  ministry  were  deal* 
ing  with  too  many  unknown  quantities. 

They  were  running  a prodigious  risk  unknown 
for  the  sake  of  an  advantage  which  in  quantlties* 
itself  was  extremely  open  to  question ; for  should 
it  turn  out  that  the  strength  of  the  Tory  party  was 
not  sufficiently  great  to  make  the  junction  of  the 
three  armies  at  Albany  at  once  equivalent  to  the 


266 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


complete  conquest  of  the  state,  then  the  end  for 
which  the  campaign  was  undertaken  could  not  be 
secured  without  supplementary  campaigns.  Neither 
a successful  march  up  and  down  the  Hudson  river 
nor  the  erection  of  a chain  of  British  fortresses 
on  that  river  could  effectually  cut  off  the  southern 
communications  of  New  England,  unless  all  mili- 
tary resistance  were  finally  crushed  in  the  state 
of  New  York.  The  surest  course  for  the  British, 
therefore,  would  have  been  to  concentrate  all  their 
available  force  at  the  mouth  of  the  Hudson,  and 
continue  to  make  the  destruction  of  Washington’s 
army  the  chief  object  of  their  exertions.  In  view 
of  the  subtle  genius  which  he  had  shown  during 
the  last  campaign,  that  would  have  been  an  ardu- 
ous task ; but,  as  events  showed,  they  had  to  deal 
with  his  genius  all  the  same  on  the  plan  which  they 
adopted,  and  at  a great  disadvantage. 

Another  point  which  the  ministry  overlooked 
was  the  effect  of  Burgoyne’s  advance  upon  the  peo- 
ple of  New  England.  They  could  reasonably  count 
upon  alarming  the  yeomanry  of  New  Hampshire 

and  Massachusetts  by  a bold  stroke 

Danger  from  ^ 

New  England  upon  the  Hudson,  but  they  failed  to  see 

ignored.  A u 

that  this  alarm  would  naturally  bring 
about  a rising  that  would  be  very  dangerous  to 
the  British  cause.  Difficult  as  it  was  at  that  time 
to  keep  the  Continental  army  properly  recruited, 
it  was  not  at  all  difficult  to  arouse  the  yeomanry 
in  the  presence  of  an  immediate  danger.  In  the 
western  parts  of  New  England  there  were  scarcely 
any  Tories  to  complicate  the  matter  ; and  the  flank 
movement  by  the  New  England  militia  became  one 
of  the  most  formidable  features  in  the  case. 


SECOND  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  267 


But  whatever  may  be  thought  of  the  merits  of 
Lord  George’s  plan,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  its 
success  was  absolutely  dependent  upon  the  har- 
monious cooperation  of  all  the  forces  involved  in 
it.  The  ascent  of  the  Hudson  by  Sir  William 
Howe,  with  the  main  army,  was  as  essential  a part 
of  the  scheme  as  the  descent  of  Burgoyne  from 
the  north ; and  as  the  two  commanders  could  not 
easily  communicate  with  each  other,  it  was  neces- 
sary that  both  should  be  strictly  bound  by  their 
instructions.  At  this  point  a fatal  blunder  was 
made.  Burgoyne  was  expressly  directed  to  follow 
the  prescribed  line  down  the  Hudson,  whatever 
might  happen,  until  he  should  effect  his  junction 
with  the  main  army.  On  the  other  hand,  no  such 
unconditional  orders  were  received  by  Howe.  He 
understood  the  plan  of  campaign,  and  knew  that 
he  was  expected  to  ascend  the  river  in  force  ; but 
he  was  left  with  the  usual  discretionary  power,  and 
we  shall  presently  see  what  an  impru- 
dent  use  he  made  ot  it.  lhe  reasons  that  was 
for  this  inconsistency  on  the  part  of  the  never  sen  ' 
ministry  were  for  a long  time  unintelligible ; but 
a memorandum  of  Lord  Shelburne,  lately  brought 
to  light  by  Lord  Edmund  Fitzmaurice,  has  solved 
the  mystery.  It  seems  that  a dispatch,  containing 
positive  and  explicit  orders  for  Howe  to  ascend 
the  Hudson,  was  duly  drafted,  and,  with  many 
other  papers,  awaited  the  minister’s  signature. 
Lord  George  Germain,  being  on  his  way  to  the 
country,  called  at  his  office  to  sign  the  dispatches ; 
but  when  he  came  to  the  letter  addressed  to  Gen- 
eral Howe,  he  found  it  had  not  been  “ fair  copied.” 


268 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


Lord  George,  like  the  old  gentleman  who  killed 
himself  in  defence  of  the  great  principle  that  crum- 
pets are  wholesome,  never  would  be  put  out  of 
his  way  by  anything.  Unwilling  to  lose  his  holi- 
day he  hurried  off  to  the  green  meadows  of  Kent, 
intending  to  sign  the  letter  on  his  return.  But 
when  he  came  back  the  matter  had  slipped  from 
his  mind.  The  document  on  which  hung  the  for- 
tunes of  an  army,  and  perhaps  of  a nation,  got 
thrust  unsigned  into  a pigeon-hole,  where  it  was 
duly  discovered  some  time  after  the  disaster  at 
Saratoga  had  become  part  of  history. 

Happy  in  his  ignorance  of  the  risks  he  was 
assuming,  Burgoyne  took  the  field  about  the  1st 
of  June,  with  an  army  of  7,902  men,  of  whom 
4,135  were  British  regulars.  His  German  troops 
from  Brunswick,  3,116  in  number,  were  com- 
manded by  Baron  Riedesel,  an  able  general,  whose 
accomplished  wife  has  left  us  such  a picturesque 
and  charming  description  of  the  scenes  of  this  ad- 
venturous campaign.  Of  Canadian  militia  there 
were  148,  and  of  Indians  503.  The  regular  troops, 
both  German  and  English,  were  superbly  trained 
and  equipped,  and  their  officers  were  selected  with 
especial  care.  Generals  Phillips  and  Fraser  were 
regarded  as  among  the  best  officers  in  the  British 
service.  On  the  second  anniversary  of 
vances  upon  Bunker  Hill  this  army  began  crossing 
Ticonderoga.  lake  Crown  Point ; and  on  the 

1st  of  J uly  it  appeared  before  Ticonderoga,  where 
St.  Clair  was  posted  with  a garrison  of  3,000  men. 
Since  its  capture  by  Allen,  the  fortress  had  been 


SECOND  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  269 


carefully  strengthened,  until  it  was  now  believed  to 
be  impregnable.  But  while  no  end  of  time  and  ex- 
pense had  been  devoted  to  the  fortifications,  a neigh- 
bouring point  which  commands  the  whole  position 
had  been  strangely  neglected.  A little  less  than 
a mile  south  of  Ticonderoga,  the  narrow  mountain 
ridge  between  the  two  lakes  ends  abruptly  in  a 
bold  crag,  which  rises  600  feet  sheer  over  the  blue 
water.  Practised  eyes  in  the  American  fort  had 
already  seen  that  a hostile  battery  planted  on  this 
eminence  would  render  their  stronghold  untenable  ; 
but  it  was  not  believed  that  siege-guns  could  be 
dragged  up  the  steep  ascent,  and  so,  in 
spite  of  due  warning,  the  crag  had  not  Mount  Defi- 
been  secured  when  the  British  army  ar-  ance* 
rived.  General  Phillips  at  once  saw  the  value  of 
the  position,  and,  approaching  it  by  a defile  that 
was  screened  from  the  view  of  the  fort,  worked 
night  and  day  in  breaking  out  a pathway  and  drag- 
ging up  cannon.  “ Where  a goat  can  go,  a man 
may  go  ; and  where  a man  can  go,  he  can  haul  up 
a gun,”  argued  the  gallant  general.  Great  was 
the  astonishment  of  the  garrison  when,  on  the 
morning  of  July  5th,  they  saw  red  coats  swarming 
on  the  top  of  the  hill,  which  the  British,  rejoicing 
in  their  exploit,  now  named  Mount  Defiance.  There 
were  not  only  red  coats  there,  but  brass  cannon, 
which  by  the  next  day  would  be  ready  for  work. 
Ticonderoga  had  become  a trap,  from  which  the 
garrison  could  not  escape  too  quickly.  gt  Clairaban. 
A council  of  war  was  held,  and  under 
cover  of  night  St.  Clair  took  his  little  1777, 
army  across  the  lake  and  retreated  upon  Castleton 


270 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


in  the  Green  Mountains.  Such  guns  and  stores 
as  could  be  saved,  with  the  women  and  wounded 
men,  were  embarked  in  200  boats,  and  sent,  under 
a strong  escort,  to  the  head  of  the  lake,  whence 
they  continued  their  retreat  to  Fort  Edward  on 
the  Hudson.  About  three  o’clock  in  the  morning 
a house  accidentally  took  fire,  and  in  the  glare  of 
the  flames  the  British  sentinels  caught  a glimpse  of 
the  American  rear-guard  just  as  it  was  vanishing 
in  the  sombre  depths  of  the  forest.  Alarm  guns 
were  fired,  and  in  less  than  an  hour  the  British 
flag  was  hoisted  over  the  empty  fortress,  while 
General  Fraser,  with  900  men,  had  started  in  hot 
pursuit  of  the  retreating  Americans.  Riedesel  was 
soon  sent  to  support  him,  while  Burgoyne,  leav- 
ing nearly  1,000  men  to  garrison  the  fort,  started 
up  the  lake  with  the  main  body  of  the  army. 

Battle  of  Hub-  0n  the  moruing  of  the  7th>  General 
bardton,  Fraser  overtook  the  American  rear- 

July  7. 

guard  of  1,000  men,  under  Colonels 
Warner  and  Francis,  at  the  village  of  Hubbard- 
ton,  about  six  miles  behind  the  main  army.  A 
fierce  fight  ensued,  in  which  Fraser  was  worsted, 
and  had  begun  to  fall  back,  with  the  loss  of  one 
fifth  of  his  men,  when  Kiedesel  came  up  with  his 
Germans,  and  the  Americans  were  put  to  flight, 
leaving  one  third  of  their  number  killed  or  wounded. 
This  obstinate  resistance  at  Hubbardton  served  t( 
check  the  pursuit,  and  five  days  later  St.  Claii 
succeeded,  without  further  loss,  in  reaching  Fort 
Edward,  where  he  joined  the  main  army  under 
Schuyler. 

Up  to  this  moment,  considering  the  amount  of 


SECOND  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  271 


work  done  and  the  extent  of  country  traversed,  the 
loss  of  the  British  had  been  very  small.  They  be- 
gan to  speak  contemptuously  of  their  antagonists, 
and  the  officers  amused  themselves  by 

. . . One  swallow 

laying  wagers  as  to  the  precise  number  does  not  make 

J ° ° 1 a summer. 

of  days  it  would  take  them  to  reach  Al- 
bany. In  commenting  on  the  failure  to  occupy 
Mount  Defiance,  Burgoyne  made  a general  state- 
ment on  the  strength  of  a single  instance,  which 
is  the  besetting  sin  of  human  reasoning.  “ It  con- 
vinces me,”  said  he,  “ that  the  Americans  have  no 
men  of  military  science.”  Yet  General  Howe  at 
Boston,  in  neglecting  to  occupy  Dorchester  Heights, 
had  made  just  the  same  blunder,  and  with  less  ex- 
cuse ; for  no  one  had  ever  doubted  that  batteries 
might  be  placed  there  by  somebody. 

In  England  the  fall  of  Ticonderoga  was  greeted 
with  exultation,  as  the  death-blow  to  the  American 
cause.  Horace  Walpole  tells  how  the  The  king’s 
king  rushed  into  the  queen’s  apartment,  glee> 
clapping  his  hands  and  shouting,  “I  have  beat 
them ! I have  beat  all  the  Americans  ! ” People 
began  to  discuss  the  best  method  of  reestablishing 
the  royal  governments  in  the  “ colonies.”  In 
America  there  was  general  consternation.  St. 
Clair  was  greeted  with  a storm  of  abuse.  John 
Adams,  then  president  of  the  Board  of  Wrath  of  John 
War,  wrote,  in  the  first  white  heat  of  Adams- 
indignation,  “We  shall  never  be  able  to  defend  a 
post  till  we  shoot  a general ! ” Schuyler,  too,  as 
commander  of  the  department,  was  ignorantly  and 
wildly  blamed,  and  his  political  enemies  seized 
upon  the  occasion  to  circulate  fresh  stories  to  his 


272 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


discredit.  A court-martial  in  the  following  year 
vindicated  St.  Clair’s  prudence  in  giving  up  an  un- 
tenable position  and  saving  his  army  from  capture. 
The  verdict  was  just,  but  there  is  no  doubt  that 
the  failure  to  fortify  Mount  Defiance  was  a grave 
error  of  judgment,  for  which  the  historian  may 
fairly  apportion  the  blame  between  St.  Clair  and 
Gates.  It  was  Gates  who  had  been  in  command 
of  Ticonderoga  in  the  autumn  of  1776,  when  an 
attack  by  Carleton  was  expected,  and  his  attention 
had  been  called  to  this  weak  point  by  Colonel 
Trumbull,  whom  he  laughed  to  scorn.  Gates  had 
again  been  in  command  from  March  to  June.  St. 
Clair  had  taken  command  about  three  weeks  be- 
fore Burgoyne’s  approach ; he  had  seriously  con- 
sidered the  question  of  fortifying  Mount  Defiance, 
but  had  not  been  sufficiently  prompt.  In  no  case 
Gates  chiefly  could  any  blame  attach  to  Schuyler, 
to  blame.  Gates  was  more  at  fault  than  any  one 
else,  but  he  did  not  happen  to  be  at  hand  when  the 
catastrophe  occurred,  and  accordingly  people  did 
not  associate  him  with  it.  On  the  contrary,  amid 
the  general  wrath,  the  loss  of  the  northern  citadel 
was  alleged  as  a reason  for  superseding  Schuyler 
by  Gates  ; for  if  he  had  been  there,  it  was  thought 
that  the  disaster  would  have  been  prevented. 

The  irony  of  events,  however,  alike  ignoring 
American  consternation  and  British  glee,  showed 
that  the  capture  of  Ticonderoga  was  not  to  help 
the  invaders  in  the  least.  On  the  contrary,  it 
straightway  became  a burden,  for  it  detained  an 
eighth  part  of  Burgoyne’s  force  in  garrison  at  a 
time  when  he  could  ill  spare  it.  Indeed,  alarming 


SECOND  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  273 

as  his  swift  advance  had  seemed  at  first,  Burgoyne’s 
serious  difficulties  were  now  iust  begin-  „ 

J ° Burgoyr.e’a 

ning,  and  the  harder  he  laboured  to  sur-  djfficuitiee  be- 

° . gin- 

mount  them  the  more  completely  did 
he  work  himself  into  a position  from  which  it  was 
impossible  either  to  advance  or  to  recede.  On  the 
10th  of  July  his  whole  army  had  reached  Skenes- 
borough  (now  Whitehall),  at  the  head  of  Lake 
Champlain.  From  this  point  to  Fort  Edward, 
where  the  American  army  was  encamped,  the  dis- 
tance was  twenty  miles  as  the  crow  flies ; but 
Schuyler  had  been  industriously  at  work  with 
those  humble  weapons  the  axe  and  the  crowbar, 
which  in  warfare  sometimes  prove  mightier  than 
the  sword.  The  roads,  bad  enough  at  their  best, 
were  obstructed  every  few  yards  by  huge  trunks  of 
fallen  trees,  that  lay  with  their  boughs  interwoven. 
Wherever  the  little  streams  could  serve  as  aids  to 
the  march,  they  were  choked  up  with  stumps  and 
stones;  wherever  they  served  as  obstacles  which 
needed  to  be  crossed,  the  bridges  were  broken 
down.  The  country  was  such  an  intricate  laby- 
rinth of  creeks  and  swamps  that  more  than  forty 
bridges  had  to  be  rebuilt  in  the  course  of  the 
march.  Under  these  circumstances,  Burgoyne’s 
advance  must  be  regarded  as  a marvel  of  celerity. 
He  accomplished  a mile  a day,  and  reached  Fort 
Edward  on  the  30th  of  July. 

In  the  mean  time  Schuyler  had  crossed  the 
Hudson,  and  slowly  fallen  back  to  Still-  Schuyler 
water,  about  thirty  miles  above  Albany. 

For  this  retrograde  movement  fresh  ward‘ 
blame  was  visited  upon  him  by  the  general  public, 


274 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


which  at  all  times  is  apt  to  suppose  that  a war 
should  mainly  consist  of  bloody  battles,  and  which 
can  seldom  be  made  to  understand  the  strategic 
value  of  a retreat.  The  facts  of  the  case  were  also 
misunderstood.  Fort  Edward  was  supposed  to  be 
an  impregnable  stronghold,  whereas  it  was  really 
commanded  by  highlands.  The  Marquis  de  Chas- 
tellux,  who  visited  it  somewhat  later,  declared  that 
it  could  be  taken  at  any  time  by  500  men  with  four 
siege-guns.  Now  for  fighting  purposes  an  open 
field  is  much  better  than  an  untenable  fortress.  If 
Schuyler  had  stayed  in  Fort  Edward,  he  would 
probably  have  been  forced  to  surrender ; and  his 
wisdom  in  retreating  is  further  shown  by  the  fact 
that  every  moment  of  delay  counted  in  his  favour. 
The  militia  of  New  York  and  New  England  were 
already  beating  to  arms.  Some  of  those  yeomen 
who  were  with  the  army  were  allowed  to  go  home 
for  the  harvest ; but  the  loss  was  more  than  made 
good  by  the  numerous  levies  which,  at  Schuyler’s 
suggestion  and  by  Washington’s  orders,  were  col- 
lecting under  General  Lincoln  in  Vermont,  for  the 

Enemies  path  PurPose  threatening  Burgoyne  in  the 
eringjnBnr-  rear.  The  people  whose  territory  was 
invaded  grew  daily  more  troublesome  to 
the  enemy.  Burgoyne  had  supposed  that  it  would 
be  necessary  only  to  show  himself  at  the  head  of  an 
army,  when  the  people  would  rush  by  hundreds  to 
offer  support  or  seek  protection.*  He  now  found 
that  the  people  withdrew  from  his  line  of  advance, 
driving  their  cattle  before  them,  and  seeking  shel- 
ter, when  possible,  within  the  lines  of  the  Ameri- 
can army.  In  his  reliance  upon  the  aid  of  New 


SECOND  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  275 


York  loyalists,  lie  was  utterly  disappointed  ; very 
few  Tories  joined  him,  and  these  could  offer  neither 
sound  advice  nor  personal  influence  wherewith  to 
help  him.  When  the  yeomanry  collected  by  hun- 
dreds, it  was  only  to  vex  him  and  retard  his  pro- 
gress. 

Even  had  the  loyalist  feeling  on  the  Vermont 
frontier  of  New  York  been  far  stronger  than  it 
really  was,  Burgoyne  had  done  much  to  alienate  or 
stifle  it  by  his  ill-advised  employment  of  TT,fl  of  Tn(1ian 
Indian  auxiliaries.  For  this  blunder  auxiliaries- 
the  responsibility  rests  mainly  with  Lord  North 
and  Lord  George  Germaine.  Burgoyne  had  little 
choice  in  the  matter  except  to  carry  out  his  instruc- 
tions. Being  a humane  man,  and  sharing,  per- 
haps, in  that  view  of  the  “ noble  savage  ” which 
was  fashionable  in  Europe  in  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, he  fancied  he  could  prevail  upon  his  tawny 
allies  to  forego  their  cherished  pastime  of  murder- 
ing and  scalping.  When,  at  the  beginning  of  the 
campaign,  he  was  joined  by  a party  of  Wyandots 
and  Ottawas,  under  command  of  that  same  re- 
doubtable Charles  de  Langlade  who,  twenty-two 
years  before,  had  achieved  the  ruin  of  Braddock, 
he  explained  his  policy  to  them  in  an  elaborate 
speech,  full  of  such  sentimental  phrases  as  the  In- 
dian mind  was  supposed  to  delight  in.  The 
slaughter  of  aged  men,  of  women  and  children  and 
unresisting  prisoners,  was  absolutely 
prohibited  ; and  “ on  no  account,  or  pre-  address  to  the 
tense,  or  subtlety,  or  prevarication,” 
were  scalps  to  be  taken  from  wounded  or  dying 
men.  An  order  more  likely  to  prove  efficient  was 


276 


TIIE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


one  which  provided  a reward  for  every  savage  who 
should  bring  his  prisoners  to  camp  in  safety.  To 
these  injunctions,  which  must  have  inspired  them 
with  pitying  contempt,  the  chiefs  laconically  re- 
plied that  they  had  “ sharpened  their  hatchets  upon 
their  affections,”  and  were  ready  to  follow  their 
“ great  white  father.” 

The  employment  of  savage  auxiliaries  was  in= 
dignantly  denounced  by  the  opposition  in  Parlia- 

it  is  ridiculed  men^»  an^  when  the  news  of  this  speech 
oy  Burke.  0f  Burgoyue’s  reached  England  it  was 
angrily  ridiculed  by  Burke,  who  took  a sounder 
view  of  the  natural  instincts  of  the  red  man. 
“ Suppose,”  said  Burke,  “ that  there  was  a riot  on 
Tower  Hill.  What  would  the  keeper  of  his  majes- 
ty’s lions  do  ? Would  he  not  fling  open  the  dens 
of  the  wild  beasts,  and  then  address  them  thus  ? 
‘My  gentle  lions,  my  humane  bears,  my  tender- 
hearted hyenas,  go  forth ! But  I exhort  you,  as 
you  are  Christians  and  members  cf  civilized  soci- 
ety, to  take  care  not  to  hurt  any  man,  woman,  or 
child ! ’ ” The  House  of  Commons  was  convulsed 
over  this  grotesque  picture;  and  Lord  North,  to 
whom  it  seemed  irresistibly  funny  to  hear  an  ab- 
sent man  thus  denounced  for  measures  which  he 
himself  had  originated,  sat  choking  with  laughter, 
while  tears  rolled  down  his  great  fat  cheeks. 

It  soon  turned  out,  however,  to  be  no  laughing 
matter.  The  cruelties  inflicted  indiscriminately 
upon  patriots  and  loyalists  soon  served  to  madden 
the  yeomanry,  and  array  against  the  invaders 
whatever  wavering  sentiment  had  hitherto  re- 
mained in  the  country.  One  sad  incident  in  par- 


SECOND  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  277 


ticular  has  been  treasured  up  in  the  memory  of 
the  people,  and  celebrated  in  song  and  The  8tory  of 
story.  J enny  McCrea,  the  beautiful  Jane  McCrea* 
daughter  of  a Scotch  clergyman  of  Paulus  Hook, 
was  at  Fort  Edward,  visiting  her  friend  Mrs.  Mc- 
Neil, who  was  a loyalist  and  a cousin  of  General 
Fraser.  On  the  morning  of  July  27th,  a maraud- 
ing party  of  Indians  burst  into  the  house,  and  car- 
ried away  the  two  ladies.  They  were  soon  pursued 
by  some  American  soldiers,  who  exchanged  a few 
shots  with  them.  In  the  confusion  which  ensued 
the  party  was  scattered,  and  Mrs.  McNeil  was 
taken  alone  into  the  camp  of  the  approaching  Brit- 
ish army.  Next  day  a savage  of  gigantic  stature, 
a famous  sachem,  known  as  the  Wyandot  Pan- 
ther, came  into  the  camp  with  a scalp  which  Mrs. 
McNeil  at  once  recognized  as  Jenny’s,  from  the 
silky  black  tresses,  more  than  a yard  in  length. 
A search  was  made,  and  the  body  of  the  poor  girl 
was  found  hard  by  a spring  in  the  forest,  pierced 
with  three  bullet  wounds.  How  she  came  to  her 
cruel  death  was  never  known.  The  Panther  plau- 
sibly declared  that  she  had  been  accidentally  shot 
during  the  scuffle  with  the  soldiers,  but  his  vera* 
city  was  open  to  question,  and  the  few  facts  that 
were  known  left  ample  room  for  conjecture.  The 
popular  imagination  soon  framed  its  story  with  a 
romantic  completeness  that  thrust  aside  even  these 
few  facts.  Miss  McCrea  was  betrothed  to  David 
Jones,  a loyalist  who  was  serving  as  lieutenant  in 
Burgoyne’s  army.  In  the  legend  which  irnmedi* 
ately  sprang  up,  Mr.  Jones  was  said  to  have  sent 
a party  of  Indians,  with  a letter  to  his  betrothed, 


278 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


entreating  her  to  come  to  him  within  the  British 
lines  that  they  might  be  married.  For  bringing 
her  to  him  in  safety  the  Indians  were  to  receive  a 
barrel  of  rum.  When  she  had  entrusted  herself 
to  their  care,  and  the  party  had  proceeded  as  fa* J 
as  the  spring,  where  the  savages  stopped  to  drink, 
a dispute  arose  as  to  who  was  to  have  the  custody 
of  the  barrel  of  rum,  and  many  high  words  ensued, 
until  one  of  the  party  settled  the  question  offhand 
by  slaying  the  lady  with  his  tomahawk.  It  would 
be  hard  to  find  a more  interesting  example  of  the 
mushroom-like  growth  and  obstinate  vitality  of  a 
romantic  legend.  The  story  seems  to  have  had 
nothing  in  common  with  the  observed  facts,  except 
the  existence  of  the  two  lovers  and  the  Indians 
and  a spring  in  the  forest.1  Yet  it  took  possession 
of  the  popular  mind  almost  immediately  after  the 
event,  and  it  has  ever  since  been  repeated,  with 
endless  variations  in  detail,  by  American  historians. 
Mr.  Jones  himself  — who  lived,  a broken-hearted 

1 I leave  this  as  I wrote  it  in  June,  1883.  Since  then  another 
version  of  the  facts  has  been  suggested  by  W.  L.  Stone  in  Apple- 
ton’s Cyclopaedia  of  American  Biography.  In  this  version,  Mr. 
Jones  sends  a party  of  Indians  under  the  half-breed  Duluth  to 
escort  Miss  McCrea  to  the  camp,  where  they  are  to  be  married 
by  Mr.  Brudenell,  the  chaplain.  It  is  to  be  quite  a fine  little 
wedding,  and  the  Baroness  Riedesel  and  Lady  Harriet  Ackland 
are  to  be  among  the  spectators.  Before  Duluth  reaches  Mrs. 
McNeil’s  house,  the  Wyandot  Panther  (here  known  by  the  name 
of  a different  beast,  Le  Loup)  with  his  party  attacks  the  house 
and  carries  off  the  two  ladies.  The  Panther’s  party  meets  Du- 
luth’s near  the  spring.  Duluth  insists  upon  taking  Jenny  with 
him,  and  high  words  ensue  between  him  and  the  Panther,  until 
the  latter,  in  a towering  rage,  draws  his  pistol  and  shoots  the 
girl.  This  version,  if  correct,  goes  some  way  toward  reconciling 
the  legend  with  the  observed  facts. 


SECOND  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTBE.  279 

man,  for  half  a century  after  the  tragedy  — was 
never  weary  of  pointing  out  its  falsehood  and  ab- 
surdity ; but  all  his  testimony,  together  with  that 
of  Mrs.  McNeil  and  other  witnesses,  to  the  facts 
that  really  happened  was  powerless  to  shake  the 
hold  upon  the  popular  fancy  which  the  legend  had 
instantly  gained.  Such  an  instance,  occurring  in 
a community  of  shrewd  and  well-educated  people, 
affords  a suggestive  commentary  upon  the  origin 
and  growth  of  popular  tales  in  earlier  and  more 
ignorant  ages. 

But  in  whatever  way  poor  J enny  may  have  come 
to  her  death,  there  can  be  no  doubt  as  to  the  mis- 
chief which  it  swiftly  wrought  for  the  invading 
army.  In  the  first  place,  it  led  to  the  desertion 
of  all  the  savage  allies.  Burgoyne  was  a man  of 
quick  and  tender  sympathy,  and  the  fate  of  this 
sweet  young  lady  shocked  him  as  it  shocked  the 
American  people.  He  would  have  had  the  Pan- 
ther promptly  hanged,  but  that  his  guilt  was  not 
clearly  proved,  and  many  of  the  officers  argued 
that  the  execution  of  a famous  and  popular  sachem 
would  enrage  all  the  other  Indians,  and  might  en- 
danger the  lives  of  many  of  the  soldiers.  The 
Panther’s  life  was  accordingly  spared, 
but  Burgoyne  made  it  a rule  that  hence-  desert  Bur- 
forth  no  party  of  Indians  should  be  g°yne' 
allowed  to  go  marauding  save  under  the  lead  of 
some  British  officer,  who  might  watch  and  restrain 
them.  When  this  rule  was  put  in  force,  the  tawny 
savages  grunted  and  growled  for  two  or  three  days, 
and  then,  with  hoarse  yells  and  hoots,  all  the  five 
hundred  broke  loose  from  the  camp,  and  scampered 


280 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


off  to  the  Adirondack  wilderness.  From  a military 
point  of  view,  the  loss  was  small,  save  in  so  far  as 
it  deprived  the  army  of  valuable  scouts  and  guides. 
But  the  thirst  for  vengeance  which  was  aroused 
among  the  yeomanry  of  northern  New  York,  of 
Vermont,  and  of  western  Massachusetts  was  a 
much  more  serious  matter.  The  lamentable  story 
was  told  at  every  village  fireside,  and  no  detail  of 
pathos  or  of  horror  was  forgotten.  The  name  of 
Jenny  McCrea  became  a watchword,  and  a fort- 
night had  not  passed  before  General  Lincoln  had 
gathered  on  the  British  flank  an  army  of  stout  and 
resolute  farmers,  inflamed  with  such  wrath  as  had 
not  filled  their  bosoms  since  the  day  when  all  New 
England  had  rushed  to  besiege  the  enemy  in  Boston. 

Such  a force  of  untrained  yeomanry  is  of  little 
use  in  prolonged  warfare,  but  on  important  occa- 
sions it  is  sometimes  capable  of  dealing  heavy 
blows.  We  have  seen  what  it  could  do  on  the 
memorable  day  of  Lexington.  It  was  now  about 
to  strike,  at  a critical  moment,  with  still  more 
deadly  effect.  Burgoyne’s  advance,  laborious  as  it 
had  been  for  the  last  three  weeks,  was  now  stopped 
for  want  of  horses  to  drag  the  cannon  and  carry 
the  provision  bags ; and  the  army,  moreover,  was 
already  suffering  from  hunger.  The  little  village 
importance  of  Bennington, at  the  f°°t  of  the  Green 
Bennington;  Mountains,  had  been  selected  by  the 

Burgoyne  7 J 

sends  a Ger-  New  England  militia  as  a centre  of 
against  it.  supplies.  Many  hundred  horses  had 
been  collected  there,  with  ample  stores  of  food  and 
ammunition.  To  capture  this  village  would  give 
Burgoyne  the  warlike  material  he  wanted,  while  at 


SECOND  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  281 

the  same  time  it  would  paralyze  the  movements  of 
Lincoln,  and  perhaps  dispel  the  ominous  cloud 
that  was  gathering  over  the  rear  of  the  British 
army.  Accordingly,  on  the  13th  of  August,  a 
strong  detachment  of  500  of  Riedesel’s  men,  with 
100  newly  arrived  Indians  and  a couple  of  cannon, 
was  sent  out  to  seize  the  stores  at  Bennington. 
Lieutenant-Colonel  Baum  commanded  the  expedi- 
tion, and  he  was  accompanied  by  Major  Skene,  an 
American  loyalist,  who  assured  Burgoyne  on  his 
honour  that  the  Green  Mountains  were  swarming 
with  devoted  subjects  of  King  George,  who  would 
flock  by  hundreds  to  his  standard  as  soon  as  it 
should  be  set  up  among  them.  That  these  loyal 
recruits  might  be  organized  as  quickly  as  possible, 
Burgoyne  sent  along  with  the  expedition  a skele- 
ton regiment  of  loyalists,  all  duly  officered,  into 
the  ranks  of  which  they  might  be  mustered  with- 
out delay.  The  loyal  recruits,  however,  turned 
out  to  be  the  phantom  of  a distempered  imagina- 
tion : not  one  of  them  appeared  in  the  flesh.  On 
the  contrary,  the  demeanour  of  the  people  was  so 
threatening  that  Baum  became  convinced  that  hard 
work  was  before  him,  and  next  day  he  sent  back 
for  reinforcements.  Lieutenant-Colonel  Breymann 
was  accordingly  sent  to  support  him,  with  another 
body  of  500  Germans  and  two  field-pieces. 

Meanwhile  Colonel  Stark  was  preparing  a warm 
reception  for  the  invaders.  We  have  already  seen 
John  Stark,  a gallant  veteran  of  the  Seven  Years* 
War,  serving  with  distinction  at  Bunker  Hill  and 
at  Trenton  and  Princeton.  He  was  considered  one 
of  the  ablest  officers  in  the  army ; but  he  had 


282  THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 

lately  gone  liome  in  disgust,  for,  like  Arnold,  he  had 
been  passed  over  by  Congress  in  the  list 
to  receive  the  oi  promotions,  lired  ot  sulking  in  his 
tent,  no  sooner  did  this  rustic  Achilles 
hear  of  the  invaders’  presence  in  New  England 
than  he  forthwith  sprang  to  arms,  and  in  the  twin- 
kling of  an  eye  800  stout  yeomen  were  marching 
under  his  orders.  He  refused  to  take  instructions 
from  any  superior  officer,  but  declared  that  he  was 
acting  under  the  sovereignty  of  New  Hampshire 
alone,  and  would  proceed  upon  his  own  responsi- 
bility in  defending  the  common  cause.  At  the 
same  time  he  sent  word  to  General  Lincoln,  at 
Manchester  in  the  Green  Mountains,  asking  him 
to  lend  him  the  services  of  Colonel  Seth  W arner, 
with  the  gallant  regiment  which  had  checked  the 
advance  of  Fraser  at  Hubbard  ton.  Lincoln  sent 
the  reinforcement  without  delay,  and  after  march- 
ing all  night  in  a drenching  rain,  the  men  reached 
Bennington  in  the  morning,  wet  to  the  skin.  Telling 
them  to  follow  him  as  soon  as  they  should  have 
dried  and  rested  themselves,  Stark  pushed  on,  with 
his  main  body,  and  found  the  enemy  about  six 
miles  distant.  On  meeting  this  large  force,  Baum 
hastily  took  up  a strong  position  on  some  rising 
ground  behind  a small  stream,  everywhere  forda- 
ble, known  as  the  W alloomsac  river.  All  day  long 
the  rain  fell  in  torrents,  and  while  the  Germans 
began  to  throw  up  intrenchments,  Stark  laid  his 
plans  for  storming  their  position  on  the  morrow. 
During  the  night  a company  of  Berkshire  militia 
arrived,  and  with  them  the  excellent  Mr.  Allen, 
the  warlike  parson  of  Pittsfield,  who  went  up  to 


SECOND  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  283 


Stark  and  said,  “Colonel,  our  Berkshire  people 
have  been  often  called  out  to  no  purpose,  and  if 
you  don’t  let  them  fight  now  they  will  never  turn 
out  again.”  “ Well,”  said  Stark,  “ would  you  have 
us  turn  out  now,  while  it  is  pitch  dark  and  rain- 
ing buckets?”  “No,  not  just  this  minute,”  re- 
plied the  minister.  “Then,”  said  the  doughty 
Stark,  “ as  soon  as  the  Lord  shall  once  more  send 
us  sunshine,  if  I don’t  give  you  fighting  enough. 
I’ll  never  ask  you  to  come  out  again  ! ” 

Next  morning  the  sun  rose  bright  and  clear,  and 
a steam  came  up  from  the  sodden  fields.  It  was  a 
true  dog-day,  sultry  and  scorching.  The  forenoon 
was  taken  up  in  preparing  the  attack,  while  Baum 
waited  in  his  strong  position.  The  New  England- 
ers outnumbered  the  Germans  two  to 

, . .....  - Battle  of  Ben- 

One,  but  they  were  a militia,  unfur-  nington,  Aug. 
nished  with  bayonets  or  cannon,  while 
Baum’s  soldiers  were  all  regulars,  picked  from  the 
bravest  of  the  troops  which  Ferdinand  of  Bruns- 
wick had  led  to  victory  at  Creveld  and  Minden. 
But  the  excellent  German  commander,  in  this 
strange  country,  was  no  match  for  the  astute  Yan- 
kee on  his  own  ground.  Stealthily  and  leisurely, 
during  the  whole  forenoon,  the  New  England  farm- 
ers marched  around  into  Baum’s  rear.  They  did 
not  march  in  military  array,  but  in  little  squads, 
half  a dozen  at  a time,  dressed  in  their  rustic  blue 
frocks.  There  was  nothing  in  their  appearance 
which  to  a European  veteran  like  Baum  could  seem 
at  all  soldier-like,  and  he  thought  that  here  at  last 
were  those  blessed  Tories,  whom  he  had  been 
taught  to  look  out  for,  coming  to  place  themselves 


284 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


behind  him  for  protection.  Early  in  the  afternoon 
he  was  cruelly  undeceived.  For  while  500  of  these 
innocent  creatures  opened  upon  him  a deadly  fire  in 
the  rear  and  on  both  flanks,  Stark,  with  500  more, 
charged  across  the  shallow  stream  and  assailed  him 
in  front.  The  Indians  instantly  broke  and  fled 
screeching  to  the  woods,  while  yet  there  was  time 
for  escape.  The  Germans  stood  their  ground,  and 
fought  desperately ; but  thus  attacked  on  all  sides 
at  once,  they  were  soon  thrown  into  disorder,  and 
after  a two  hours’  struggle,  in  which  Baum  was 
mortally  wounded,  they  were  all  captured.  At  this 
moment,  as  the  New  England  men  began  to  scat- 
ter to  the  plunder  of  the  German  camp,  the  re. 
lieving  force  of  Breymann  came  upon  the  scene  j 
and  the  fortunes  of  the  day  might  have  been 
changed,  had  not  Warner  also  arrived  with  his 
150  fresh  men  in  excellent  order.  A furious 
charge  was  made  upon  Breymann,  who 

The  invading  ® J 

force  annihi-  gave  way,  and  retreated  slowly  from  hill 
to  hill,  while  parties  of  Americans  kept 
pushing  on  to  his  rear  to  cut  him  off.  By  eight 
in  the  evening,  when  it  had  grown  too  dark  to  aim 
a gun,  this  second  German  force  was  entirely  dis- 
persed or  captured.  Breymann,  with  a mere  cor- 
poral’s guard  of  sixty  or  seventy  men,  escaped  un- 
der cover  of  darkness,  and  reached  the  British 
camp  in  safety.  Of  the  whole  German  force  of 
1,000  men,  207  had  been  killed  and  wounded,  and 
more  than  700  had  been  captured.  Among  the 
spoils  of  victory  were  1,000  stand  of  arms,  1,000 
dragoon  swords,  and  the  four  field-pieces.  Of  the 
Americans  14  were  killed  and  42  wounded. 


SECOND  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  285 


The  news  of  this  brilliant  victory  spread  joy  and 
hope  throughout  the  land.  Insubordination  which 
had  been  crowned  with  such  splendid  success  could 
not  but  be  overlooked,  and  the  gallant  Stark  was 
at  once  taken  back  into  the  army,  and  made  a 
brigadier-general.  Not  least  among  the  grounds 
of  exultation  was  the  fact  that  an  army  of  yeo- 
manry had  not  merely  defeated,  but  annihilated,  an 
army  of  the  Brunswick  regulars,  with  whose  Euro- 
pean reputation  for  bravery  and  discipline  every 
man  in  the  country  was  familiar.  The  bolder 
spirits  began  to  ask  the  question  why  that  which 
had  been  done  to  Baum  and  Breymann  might  not 
be  done  to  Burgoyne’s  whole  army ; and  Effectofthe 
in  the  excitement  of  this  rising  hope, 
reinforcements  began  to  pour  in  faster  111168  multiply* 
and  faster,  both  to  Schuyler  at  Stillwater  and  to 
Lincoln  at  Manchester.  On  the  other  hand,  Bur- 
goyne  at  Fort  Edward  was  fast  losing  heart,  as 
dangers  thickened  around  him.  So  far  from  se- 
curing his  supplies  of  horses,  wagons,  and  food  by 
this  stroke  at  Bennington,  he  had  simply  lost  one 
seventh  part  of  his  available  army,  and  he  was  now 
clearly  in  need  of  reinforcements  as  well  as  sup- 
plies. But  no  word  had  yet  come  from  Sir  Wil- 
liam Howe,  and  the  news  from  St.  Leger  was  any- 
thing but  encouraging.  It  is  now  time  for  us  to 
turn  westward  and  follow  the  wild  fortunes  of  the 
second  invading  column. 

About  the  middle  of  July,  St.  Leger  had  landed 
at  Oswego,  where  he  was  joined  by  Sir  John  John- 
son with  his  famous  Tory  regiment  known  as  the 


286 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


Royal  Greens,  and  Colonel  John  Butler  with  his 
company  of  Tory  rangers.  Great  efforts  had  been 

made  by  Johnson  to  secure  the  aid  of 

Advance  of  St.  J 

Leger  upon  the  Iroquois  tribes,  but  only  with  partial 

Port  Stanwix.  u 

success.  For  once  the  Long  House 
was  fairly  divided  against  itself,  and  the  result  of 
ihe  present  campaign  did  not  redound  to  its  future 
prosperity.  The  Mohawks,  under  their  great  chief 
Thayendanegea,  better  known  as  Joseph  Brant, 
entered  heartily  into  the  British  cause,  and  they 
were  followed,  though  with  less  alacrity,  by  the 
Cayugas  and  Senecas ; but  the  central  tribe,  the 
Onondagas,  remained  neutral.  Under  the  influ- 
ence of  the  missionary,  Samuel  Kirkland,  the 
Oneidas  and  Tuscaroras  actively  aided  the  Amer- 
icans, though  they  did  not  take  the  field.  After 
duly  arranging  his  motley  force,  which  amounted 
to  about  1,700  men,  St.  Leger  advanced  very  cau- 
tiously through  the  woods,  and  sat  down  before 
Fort  Stanwix  on  the  3d  of  August.  This  strong- 
hold, which  had  been  built  in  1756,  on  the  water- 
shed between  the  Hudson  and  Lake  Ontario,  com- 
manded the  main  line  of  traffic  between  New  York 
and  Upper  Canada.  The  place  was  then  on  the 
very  outskirts  of  civilization,  and  under  the  pow- 
erful influence  of  Johnson  the  Tory  element  was 
stronger  here  than  in  any  other  part  of  the  state. 
Even  here,  however,  the  strength  of  the  patriot 
party  turned  out  to  be  much  greater  than  had  been 
supposed,  and  at  the  approach  of  the  enemy  the 
people  began  to  rise  in  arms.  In  this  part  of  New 
York  there  were  many  Germans,  whose  ancestors 
had  come  over  to  America  during  the  horrors  of 


SECOND  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  287 


the  Thirty  Years’  War;  and  among  these  there 
was  one  stout  patriot  whose  name  shines  conspicu- 
ously in  the  picturesque  annals  of  the  Revolution. 
General  Nicholas  Herkimer,  commander 

. Herkimer 

of  the  militia  of  Tryon  County,  a vet-  marches 

^ J against  him. 

eran  over  sixty  years  of  age,  no  sooner 
heard  of  St.  Leger’s  approach  than  he  started  out 
to  the  rescue  of  Fort  Stanwix  ; and  by  the  5th  of 
August  he  had  reached  Oriskany,  about  eight 
miles  distant,  at  the  head  of  800  men.  The  gar- 
rison of  the  fort,  600  in  number,  under  Colonel 
Peter  Gansevoort,  had  already  laughed  to  scorn 
St.  Leger’s  summons  to  surrender,  when,  on  the 
morning  of  the  6th,  they  heard  a distant  firing  to 
the  eastward,  which  they  could  not  account  for. 
The  mystery  was  explained  when  three  friendly 
messengers  floundered  through  a dangerous  swamp 
into  the  fort,  and  told  them  of  Herkimer’s  ap- 
proach and  of  his  purpose.  The  plan  was  to  over- 
whelm St.  Leger  by  a concerted  attack  in  front 
and  rear.  The  garrison  was  to  make  a furious 
sortie,  while  Herkimer,  advancing  through  the  for- 
est, was  to  fall  suddenly  upon  the  enemy  from  be- 
hind ; and  thus  it  was  hoped  that  his  Herkimer’s 
army  might  be  crushed  or  captured  at  a plan* 
single  blow.  To  insure  completeness  of  coopera- 
tion, Colonel  Gansevoort  was  to  fire  three  guns 
immediately  upon  receiving  the  message,  and  upon 
hearing  this  signal  Herkimer  would  begin  his  march 
from  Oriskany.  Gansevoort  would  then  make 
such  demonstrations  as  to  keep  the  whole  attention 
of  the  enemy  concentrated  upon  the  fort,  and  thus 
guard  Herkimer  against  a surprise  by  the  way, 


288 


TEE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


until,  after  the  proper  interval  of  time,  the  garrison 
should  sally  forth  in  full  force. 

In  this  bold  scheme  everything  depended  upon 
absolute  coordination  in  time.  Herkimer  had  dis- 
patched his  messengers  so  early  on  the  evening  of 
the  5th  that  they  ought  to  have  reached  the  fort 
by  three  o’clock  the  next  morning,  and  at  about 
that  time  he  began  listening  for  the  signal-guns. 
But  through  some  unexplained  delay  it  was  nearly 
eleven  in  the  forenoon  when  the  messengers 
reached  the  fort,  as  just  described.  Meanwhile,  as 
hour  after  hour  passed  by,  and  no  signal-guns 
were  heard  by  Herkimer’s  men,  they  grew  impa- 
tient, and  insisted  upon  going  ahead,  without  re- 
Faiiure  of  the  gard  to  the  preconcerted  plan.  Much 
pian.  unseemly  wrangling  ensued,  in  which 

Herkimer  was  called  a ccward  and  accused  of  be- 
ing a Tory  at  heart,  until,  stung  by  these  taunts, 
the  brave  old  man  at  length  gave  way,  and  at 
about  nine  o’clock  the  forward  march  was  resumed. 
At  this  time  his  tardy  messengers  still  lacked  two 
hours  of  reaching  the  fort,  but  St.  Leger’s  Indian 
scouts  had  already  discovered  and  reported  the  ap- 
proach of  the  American  force,  and  a strong  detach- 
ment of  Johnson’s  Greens  under  Major  Watts,  to- 
gether with  Brant  and  his  Mohawks,  had  been 
sent  out  to  intercept  them. 

About  two  miles  west  of  Oriskany  the  road  was 
crossed  by  a deep  semicircular  ravine,  concave 

toward  the  east.  The  bottom  of  this 

Thayendane- 

gea  prepares  ravine  was  a swamp,  across  which  the 

an  ambuscade.  # A 

road  was  carried  by  a causeway  of  logs, 
and  the  steep  banks  on  either  side  were  thickly 


SECOND  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  289 


covered  with  trees  and  underbrush.  The  prac- 
tised eye  of  Thayendanegea  at  once  perceived  the 
rare  advantage  of  such  a position,  and  an  am- 
buscade was  soon  prepared  with  a skill  as  deadly 
as  that  which  once  had  wrecked  the  proud  army 
of  Braddock.  But  this  time  it  was  a meeting  of 
Greek  with  Greek,  and  the  wiles  of  the  savage 
chief  were  foiled  by  a desperate  valour  which  noth- 
ing could  overcome.  By  ten  o’clock  the  main  body 
of  Herkimer’s  army  had  descended  into  the  ravine, 
followed  by  the  wagons,  while  the  rear-guard  was 
still  on  the  rising  ground  behind.  At  this  moment 
they  were  greeted  by  a murderous  volley  from 
either  side,  while  Johnson’s  Greens  came  charging 
down  upon  them  in  front,  and  the  Indians,  with 
frightful  yells,  swarmed  in  behind  and 
cut  off  the  rear-guard,  which  was  thus  kany,  Aug.  6, 
obliged  to  retreat  to  save  itself.  For  a 
moment  the  main  body  was  thrown  into  confusion, 
but  it  soon  rallied  and  formed  itself  in  a circle, 
which  neither  bayonet  charges  nor  musket  fire 
could  break  or  penetrate.  The  scene  which  ensued 
was  one  of  the  most  infernal  that  the  history  of 
savage  warfare  has  ever  witnessed.  The  dark  ra- 
vine was  filled  with  a mass  of  fifteen  hundred  hu- 
man beings,  screaming  and  cursing,  slipping  in  the 
mire,  pushing  and  struggling,  seizing  each  other’s 
throats,  stabbing,  shooting,  and  dashing  out  brains. 
Bodies  of  neighbours  were  afterwards  found  lying 
in  the  bog,  where  they  had  gone  down  in  a death- 
grapple,  their  cold  hands  still  grasping  the  knives 
plunged  in  each  other’s  hearts. 

Early  in  the  fight  a musket-ball  slew  Herkimer’s 


290 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


horse,  and  shattered  his  own  leg  just  below  the 
knee ; but  the  old  hero,  nothing  daunted,  and  bat- 
ing nothing  of  his  coolness  in  the  midst  of  the  hor- 
rid struggle,  had  the  saddle  taken  from  his  dead 
horse  and  placed  at  the  foot  of  a great  beech-tree, 
where,  taking  his  seat  and  lighting  his  pipe,  he 
continued  shouting  his  orders  in  a stentorian  voice 
and  directing  the  progress  of  the  battle.  Nature 
presently  enhanced  the  lurid  horror  of  the  scene. 
The  heat  of  the  August  morning  had  been  intoler- 
able, and  black  thunder-clouds,  overhanging  the 
deep  ravine  at  the  beginning  of  the  action,  had 
enveloped  it  in  a darkness  like  that  of  night. 
Now  the  rain  came  pouring  in  torrents,  while  gusts 
of  wind  howled  through  the  tree-tops,  and  sheets 
of  lightning  flashed  in  quick  succession,  with  a 
continuous  roar  of  thunder  that  drowned  the  noise 
of  the  fray.  The  wet  rifles  could  no  longer  be 
fired,  but  hatchet,  knife,  and  bayonet  carried  on 
the  work  of  butchery,  until,  after  more  than  five 
hundred  men  had  been  killed  or  wounded,  the  In- 
dians gave  way  and  fled  in  all  directions,  and  the 
Retreat  of  the  Tory  soldiers,  disconcerted,  began  to  re- 
Tones.  treat  up  the  western  road,  while  the  pa- 

triot army,  remaining  in  possession  of  the  hard- 
won  field,  felt  itself  too  weak  to  pursue  them. 

At  this  moment,  as  the  storm  cleared  away  and 
long  rays  of  sunshine  began  flickering  through  the 
wet  leaves,  the  sound  of  the  three  signal-guns  came 
booming  through  the  air,  and  presently  a sharp 
crackling  of  musketry  was  heard  from  the  direc- 
tion of  Fort  Stanwix.  Startled  by  this  ominous 
sound,  the  Tories  made  all  possible  haste  to  join 


SECOND  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  291 

their  own  army,  while  the  patriots,  bearing  their 
wounded  on  litters  of  green  boughs,  returned  in  sad 
procession  to  Oriskany.  With  their  commander 
helpless  and  more  than  one  third  of  Retreat  of  the 
their  number  slain  or  disabled,  they  were  patriot  army' 
in  no  condition  to  engage  in  a fresh  conflict,  and 
unwillingly  confessed  that  the  garrison  of  Fort 
Stanwix  must  be  left  to  do  its  part  of  the  work 
alone.  Upon  the  arrival  of  the  messengers,  Colo- 
nel Gansevoort  had  at  once  taken  in  the  whole 
situation.  He  understood  the  mysterious  firing  in 
the  forest,  saw  that  Herkimer  must  have  been  pre- 
maturely attacked,  and  ordered  his  sortie  instantly, 
to  serve  as  a diversion.  The  sortie  was  a brilliant 
success.  Sir  John  Johnson,  with  his  Tories  and 
Indians,  was  completely  routed  and  driven  across 
the  river.  Colonel  Marinus  Willett  took  Colonel  Wil_ 
possession  of  his  camp,  and  held  it  while  lett’s  80rtie- 
seven  wagons  were  three  times  loaded  with  spoil 
and  sent  to  be  unloaded  in  the  fort.  Among  all 
this  spoil,  together  with  abundance  of  food  and 
drink,  blankets  and  clothes,  tools  and  ammunition, 
the  victors  captured  five  British  standards,  and  all 
Johnson’s  papers,  maps,  and  memoranda,  contain- 
ing full  instructions  for  the  projected  campaign. 
After  this  useful  exploit,  Colonel  Willett  returned 
to  the  fort  and  hoisted  the  captured  British  stand- 
ards, while  over  them  he  raised  an  uncouth  flag, 
intended  to  represent  the  American  ^ ^ 
stars  and  stripes,  which  Congress  had  of  the  stars 

, i • t i . ° . and  stripes. 

adopted  m June  as  the  national  banner. 

This  rude  flag,  hastily  extemporized  out  of  a white 
shirt,  an  old  blue  jacket,  and  some  strips  of  red 


292 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 

cloth  from  the  petticoat  of  a soldier’s  wife,  was  the 
first  American  flag  with  stars  and  stripes  that  was 
ever  hoisted,  and  it  was  first  flung  to  the  breeze  on 
the  memorable  day  of  Oriskany,  August  6,  1777. 

Of  all  the  battles  of  the  Revolution,  this  was 
perhaps  the  most  obstinate  and  murderous.  Each 
side  seems  to  have  lost  not  less  than  one  third  of 
its  whole  number ; and  of  those  lost,  nearly  all 
were  killed,  as  it  was  largely  a hand-to-hand  strug- 
gle, like  the  battles  of  ancient  times,  and  no  quar- 
ter was  given  on  either  side.  The  number  of 
surviving  wounded,  who  were  carried  back  to 
Oriskany,  does  not  seem  to  have  exceeded  forty. 
Death  of  Among  these  was  the  indomitable  Her- 
Herkimer.  kimer,  whose  shattered  leg  was  so  unskil- 
fully treated  that  he  died  a few  days  later,  sitting 
in  bed  propped  by  pillows,  calmly  smoking  his 
Dutch  pipe  and  reading  his  Bible  at  the  thirty- 
eighth  Psalm. 

For  some  little  time  no  one  could  tell  exactly 
how  the  results  of  this  fierce  and  disorderly  day 
were  to  be  regarded.  Both  sides  claimed  a victory, 
and  St.  Leger  vainly  tried  to  scare  the  garrison  by 
the  story  that  their  comrades  had  been  destroyed 
in  the  forest.  But  in  its  effects  upon  the  cam- 
paign, Oriskany  was  for  the  Americans  a success, 
though  an  incomplete  one.  St.  Leger  was  not 
crushed,  but  he  was  badly  crippled.  The  sacking 
of  Johnson’s  camp  injured  his  prestige  in  the 
neighbourhood,  and  the  Indian  allies,  who  had  lost 
more  than  a hundred  of  their  best  warriors  on  that 
fatal  morning,  grew  daily  more  sullen  and  refrac- 
tory, until  their  strange  behaviour  came  to  be  a 


SECOND  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  293 


fresh  source  of  anxiety  to  the  British  commander. 
While  he  was  pushing  on  the  siege  as  well  as  he 
could,  a force  of  1,200  troops,  under  Arnold,  was 
marching  up  the  Mohawk  valley  to  complete  his 
discomfiture. 

As  soon  as  he  had  heard  the  news  of  the  fall  of 
Ticonderoga,  Washington  had  dispatched  Arnold 
to  render  such  assistance  as  he  could  to  the  north- 
ern army,  and  Arnold  had  accordingly  arrived  at 
Schuyler’s  headquarters  about  three 

, . _ Arnold  arrives 

weeks  ago.  Before  leaving  Jrhiladel-  at  Schuyler’s 

° ° camp, 

phia,  he  had  appealed  to  Congress  to  re- 
store him  to  his  former  rank  relatively  to  the  five 
junior  officers  who  had  been  promoted  over  him, 
and  he  had  just  learned  that  Congress  had  refused 
the  request.  At  this  moment,  Colonel  Willett  and 
another  officer,  after  a perilous  journey  through 
the  wilderness,  arrived  at  Schuyler’s  headquarters, 
and,  bringing  the  news  of  Oriskany,  begged  that  a 
force  might  be  sent  to  raise  the  siege  of  Fort  Stan- 
wix.  Schuyler  understood  the  importance  of  res- 
cuing the  stronghold  and  its  brave  garrison,  and 
called  a council  of  war ; but  he  was  bitterly  op- 
posed by  his  officers,  one  of  whom  presently  said 
to  another,  in  an  audible  whisper,  “ He  only  wants 
to  weaken  the  army  ! ” At  this  vile  insinuation, 
the  indignant  general  set  his  teeth  so  hard  as  to 
bite  through  the  stem  of  the  pipe  he  was  smok- 
ing, which  fell  on  the  floor  and  was  smashed. 
“ Enough  ! ” he  cried.  “ I assume  the  whole  re- 
sponsibility. Where  is  the  brigadier  who  will 
go  ? ” The  brigadiers  all  sat  in  sullen  silence ; 
but  Arnold,  who  had  been  brooding  over  his  pri- 


294 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


vate  grievances,  suddenly  jumped  up.  “ Here  ! ” 
said  he.  “ Washington  sent  me  here  to  make  my- 
self useful : I will  go.”  The  commander  gratefully 
d j seized  him  by  the  hand,  and  the  drum 
teers  to  relieve  beat  for  volunteers.  Arnold’s  unpopu- 

Fort  Stanwix.  . . , „ . . . , 

lanty  in  JNew  England  was  mainly  with 
the  politicians.  It  did  not  extend  to  the  common 
soldiers,  who  admired  his  impulsive  bravery  and 
had  unbounded  faith  in  his  resources  as  a leader. 
Accordingly,  1,200  Massachusetts  men  were  easily 
enlisted  in  the  course  of  the  next  forenoon,  and 
the  expedition  started  up  the  Mohawk  valley.  Ar- 
nold pushed  on  with  characteristic  energy,  but  the 
natural  difficulties  of  the  road  were  such  that  after 
a week  of  hard  work  he  had  only  reached  the  Ger- 
man Flats,  where  he  was  still  more  than  twenty 
miles  from  Fort  Stanwix.  Believing  that  no  time 
should  be  lost,  and  that  everything  should  b®  done 
to  encourage  the  garrison  and  dishearten  the  en- 
emy, he  had  recourse  to  a stratagem,  which  suc- 
ceeded beyond  his  utmost  anticipation.  A party 
of  Tory  spies  had  just  been  arrested  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood, and  among  them  was  a certain  Yan  Yost 
Cuyler,  a queer,  half-witted  fellow,  not  devoid  of 
cunning,  whom  the  Indians  regarded  with  that 
mysterious  awe  with  which  fools  and  lunatics  are 
wont  to  inspire  them,  as  creatures  possessed  with  a 
devil.  Yan  Yost  was  summarily  condemned  to 
death,  and  his  brother  and  gypsy-like  mother,  in 
wild  alarm,  hastened  to  the  camp,  to  plead  for  his 
life.  Arnold  for  a while  was  inexorable,  but  pres- 
ently offered  to  pardon  the  culprit  on  condition 
that  he  should  go  and  spread  a panic  in  the  camp 


SECOND  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  295 


of  St.  Leger.  Yan  Yost  joyfully  consented,  and 
Tan  Yost  Cuy-  started  off  forthwith,  while  his  brother 
was  detained  as  a hostage,  to  be  hanged 
in  case  of  his  failure.  To  make  the  matter  still 
surer,  some  friendly  Oneidas  were  sent  along  to 
keep  an  eye  upon  him  and  act  in  concert  with  him0 
Next  day,  St.  Leger ’s  scouts,  as  they  stole  through 
the  forest,  began  to  hear  rumours  that  Burgoyne 
had  been  totally  defeated,  and  that  a great  Ameri- 
can army  was  coming  up  the  valley  of  the  Mohawk. 
They  carried  back  these  rumours  to  the  camp,  and 
toward  evening,  while  officers  and  soldiers  were 
standing  about  in  anxious  consultation,  Yan  Yost 
came  running  in,  with  a dozen  bullet-holes  in  his 
coat  and  terror  in  his  face,  and  said  that  he  had 
barely  escaped  with  his  life  from  the  resistless 
American  host  which  was  close  at  hand.  As  many 
knew  him  for  a Tory,  his  tale  found  ready  belief, 
and  when  interrogated  as  to  the  numbers  of  the 
advancing  host  he  gave  a warning  frown,  and 
pointed  significantly  to  the  countless  leaves  that 
fluttered  on  the  branches  overhead.  Nothing 
more  was  needed  to  complete  the  panic.  It  was  in 
vain  that  Johnson  and  St.  Leger  exhorted  and 
threatened  the  Indian  allies.  Already  disaffected, 
they  now  began  to  desert  by  scores,  while  some, 
breaking  open  the  camp  chests,  drank  rum  till  they 
were  drunk,  and  began  to  assault  the 
soldiers.  All  night  long  the  camp  was  Leger,  Aug!’ 
a perfect  Pandemonium.  The  riot  ex- 
tended to  the  Tories,  and  by  noon  of  the  next  day 
St.  Leger  took  to  flight  and  his  whole  army  was  dis- 
persed. All  the  tents,  artillery,  and  stores  fell  into 


296 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


the  hands  of  the  Americans.  The  garrison,  sally- 
ing forth,  pursued  St.  Leger  for  a while,  but  the 
faithless  Indians,  enjoying  his  discomfiture,  and 
willing  to  curry  favour  with  the  stronger  party, 
kept  up  the  chase  nearly  all  the  way  to  Oswego; 
laying  ambushes  every  night,  and  diligently  mur- 
dering the  stragglers,  until  hardly  a remnant  of  an 
army  was  left  to  embark  with  its  crest-fallen  leader 
for  Montreal. 

The  news  of  this  catastrophe  reached  Burgoyne 
before  he  had  had  time  to  recover  from  the  news 
of  the  disaster  at  Bennington.  Burgoyne’s  situa- 
tion was  now  becoming  critical.  Lin- 
dangeroua8  coin,  with  a strong  force  of  militia,  was 

Situation.  , . . . . 

hovering  in  his  rear,  while  the  mam 
army  before  him  was  gaining  in  numbers  day  by 
day.  Putnam  had  just  sent  up  reinforcements  from 
the  Highlands;  Washington  had  sent  Morgan 
with  500  sharpshooters  ; and  Arnold  was  hurrying 
back  from  Fort  Stanwix.  Not  a word  had  come 
from  Sir  William  Howe,  and  it  daily  grew  more 
difficult  to  get  provisions. 

Just  at  this  time,  when  everything  was  in  readi- 
ness for  the  final  catastrophe,  General  Gates  ar- 
rived from  Philadelphia,  to  take  command  of  the 
northern  army,  and  reap  the  glory  earned  by 
other  men.  On  the  first  day  of  August,  before 
the  first  alarm  occasioned  by  Burgoyne’s  advance 
had  subsided,  Congress  had  yielded  to 
perseded  by  the  pressure  of  Schuyler’s  enemies,  and 
Gates,  Aug.  2.  remove(j  from  his  command;  and 

on  the  following  day  Gates  was  appointed  to  take 
his  place.  Congress  was  led  to  take  this  step 


SECOND  BLOW  AT  THE  CENTRE.  297 


through  the  belief  that  the  personal  hatred  felt  to- 
ward Schuyler  by  many  of  the  New  England  peo- 
ple would  prevent  the  enlisting  of  militia  to  sup- 
port him.  The  events  of  the  next  fortnight  showed 
that  in  this  fear  Congress  was  quite  mistaken. 
There  can  now  be  no  doubt  that  the  appointment 
of  the  incompetent  Gates  was  a serious  blunder* 
which  might  have  ruined  the  campaign,  and  did  in 
the  end  occasion  much  trouble,  both  for  Congress 
and  for  Washington.  Schuyler  received  the  un- 
welcome news  with  the  noble  unselfishness  which 
always  characterized  him.  At  no  time  did  he  show 
more  zeal  and  diligence  than  during  his  last  week 
of  command ; and  on  turning  over  the  army  to 
General  Gates  he  cordially  offered  his  aid,  whether 
by  counsel  or  action,  in  whatever  capacity  his  suc- 
cessor might  see  fit  to  suggest.  But  so  far  from 
accepting  this  offer,  Gates  treated  him  with  con- 
tumely, and  would  not  even  invite  him  to  attend 
his  first  council  of  war.  Such  silly  behaviour 
called  forth  sharp  criticisms  from  discerning  people. 
“ The  new  commander-in-chief  of  the  northern  de- 
partment,” said  Gouverneur  Morris,  “ may,  if  he 
please,  neglect  to  ask  or  disdain  to  receive  advice ; 
but  those  who  know  him  will,  I am  sure,  be  con- 
duced that  he  needs  it.” 

When  Gates  thus  took  command  of  the  north- 
ern army,  it  was  stationed  along  the  western  bank 
of  the  Hudson,  from  Stillwater  down  Positiono{ 
to  Half  moon,  at  the  mouth  of  the  the  two  ar- 
Mohawk,  while  Burgoyne’s  troops  were  Sept- 12, 
encamped  along  the  eastern  bank,  some  thirty 
miles  higher  up,  from  Fort  Edward  down  to  the 


298  THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 

Battenkill.  For  the  next  three  weeks  no  move- 
ments were  made  on  either  side ; and  we  must  now 
leave  the  two  armies  confronting  each  other  in 
these  two  positions,  while  we  turn  our  attention 
southward,  and  see  what  Sir  William  Howe  was 
doing,  and  how  it  happened  that  Burgoyne  had  as 
yet  heard  nothing  from  him. 


CHAPTER  VXL 


SARATOGA. 

We  have  seen  how,  owing  to  the  gross  negli- 
gence of  Lord  George  Germain,  discretionary 
power  had  been  left  to  Howe,  while  entirely  taken 
away  from  Burgoyne.  The  latter  had  no  choice 
but  to  move  down  the  Hudson.  The  former  was 
instructed  to  move  up  the  Hudson,  but  at  the  same 
time  was  left  free  to  depart  from  the 

v # ^ # Why  Howe 

strict  letter  of  his  instructions,  should  wenttoChes. 
there  be  any  manifest  advantage  in  so  apeake  Bay’ 
doing.  Nevertheless,  the  movement  up  the  Hud- 
son was  so  clearly  prescribed  by  all  sound  military 
considerations  that  everybody  wondered  why  Howe 
did  not  attempt  it.  Why  he  should  have  left  his 
brother  general  in  the  lurch,  and  gone  sailing  off  to 
Chesapeake  Bay,  was  a mystery  which  no  one  was 
able  to  unravel,  until  some  thirty  years  ago  a doc- 
ument was  discovered  which  has  thrown  much  light 
upon  the  question.  Here  there  steps  again  upon 
the  scene  that  miserable  intriguer,  whose  presence 
in  the  American  army  had  so  nearly  wrecked  the 
fortunes  of  the  patriot  cause,  and  who  CharlesLeein 
now,  in  captivity,  proceeded  to  act  the  captivity* 
part  of  a doubly-dyed  traitor.  A marplot  and 
mischief-maker  from  beginning  to  end,  Charles 
Lee  never  failed  to  work  injury  to  whichever  party 


300 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


his  selfish  vanity  or  craven  fear  inclined  him  for 
the  moment  to  serve.  We  have  seen  how,  on 
the  day  when  he  was  captured  and  taken  to  the 
British  camp,  his  first  thought  was  for  his  personal 
safety,  which  he  might  well  suppose  to  be  in  some 
jeopardy,  since  he  had  formerly  held  the  rank  of 
lieutenant-colonel  in  the  British  army.  He  was 
taken  to  New  York  and  confined  in  the  City  Hall, 
where  he  was  treated  with  ordinary  courtesy ; but 
there  is  no  doubt  that  Sir  William  Howe  looked 
upon  him  as  a deserter,  and  was  more  than  half 
inclined  to  hang  him  without  ceremony.  Fearing, 
however,  as  he  said,  that  he  might  “ fall  into  a law 
scrape,”  should  he  act  too  hastily,  Sir  William 
wrote  home  for  instructions,  and  in  reply  was  di- 
rected by  Lord  George  Germain  to  send  his  pris- 
oner to  England  for  trial.  In  pursuance  of  this 
order,  Lee  had  already  been  carried  on  board  ship, 
when  a letter  from  W ashington  put  a stop  to  these 
proceedings.  The  letter  informed  General  Howe 
that  Washington  held  five  Hessian  field-officers  as 
hostages  for  Lee’s  personal  safety,  and  that  all 
exchange  of  prisoners  would  be  suspended  until  due 
assurance  should  be  received  that  Lee  was  to  be 
recognized  as  a prisoner  of  war.  After  reading 
this  letter  General  Howe  did  not  dare  to  send  Lee 
to  England  for  trial,  for  fear  of  possible  evil  con- 
sequences to  the  five  Hessian  officers,  which  might 
cause  serious  disaffection  among  the  German  troops. 
The  king  approved  of  this  cautious  behaviour,  and 
so  Lee  was  kept  in  New  York,  with  his  fate  unde- 
cided, until  it  had  become  quite  clear  that  neither 
arguments  nor  threats  could  avail  one  jot  to  shake 


SARATOGA. 


801 


Washington’s  determination.  When  Lord  George 
Germain  had  become  convinced  of  this,  he  per- 
suaded  the  reluctant  king  to  yield  the  point ; and 
Howe  was  accordingly  instructed  that  Lee,  al- 
though worthy  of  condign  punishment,  should  be 
deemed  a prisoner  of  war,  and  might  be  exchanged 
as  such,  whenever  convenient. 

All  this  discussion  necessitated  the  exchange  of 
several  letters  between  London  and  New  York,  so 
that  a whole  year  elapsed  before  the  question  was 
settled.  It  was  not  until  December  12,  1777,  that 
Howe  received  these  final  instructions.  But  Lee 
had  not  been  idle  all  this  time  while  his  fate  was 
in  suspense.  Hardly  had  the  key  been  turned 
upon  him  in  his  rooms  at  the  City  Hall  when  he 
began  his  intrigues.  First,  he  assured  Lord  Howe 
and  his  brother  that  he  had  always  opposed  the 
declaration  of  independence,  and  even  now  cher- 
ished hopes  that,  by  a judiciously  arranged  inter- 
view with  some  of  the  delegates  in  Congress,  he 
might  persuade  the  misguided  people  of  America 
to  return  to  their  old  allegiance.  Lord  Howe,  who 
always  kept  one  hand  on  the  olive-branch,  eagerly 
caught  at  the  suggestion,  and  permitted  Lee  to 
send  a letter  to  Congress,  urging  that  a Treason  of 
committee  be  sent  to  confer  with  him,  Charles  Lee. 
as  he  had  “ important  communications  to  make.” 
Could  such  a conference  be  brought  about,  he 
thought,  his  zeal  for  effecting  a reconciliation  would 
interest  the  Howes  in  his  favour,  and  might  save 
his  precious  neck.  Congress,  however,  flatly  re- 
fused to  listen  to  the  proposal,  and  then  the  wretch, 
without  further  ado,  went  over  to  the  enemy,  and 


302 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


began  to  counsel  with  the  British  commanders 
how  they  might  best  subdue  the  Americans  in  the 
summer  campaign.  He  went  so  far  as  to  write  out 
for  the  brothers  Howe  a plan  of  operations,  giv- 
ing them  the  advantage  of  what  was  supposed  to 
be  his  intimate  knowledge  of  the  conditions  of  the 
case.  This  document  the  Howes  did  not  care  to 
show  after  the  disastrous  event  of  the  campaign, 
and  it  remained  hidden  for  eighty  years,  until  it 
was  found  among  the  domestic  archives  of  the 
Strachey  family,  at  Sutton  Court,  in  Somerset. 
The  first  Sir  Henry  Strachey  was  secretary  to  the 
Howes  from  1775  to  1778.  The  document  is  in 
Lee’s  well-known  handwriting,  and  is  indorsed  by 
Strachey  as  “ Mr.  Lee’s  plan,  March  29,  1777.” 
In  this  document  Lee  maintains  that  if  the  state 
of  Maryland  could  be  overawed,  and  the  people  of 
Virginia  prevented  from  sending  aid  to  Pennsyl- 
vania, then  Philadelphia  might  be  taken  and  held, 
and  the  operations  of  the  “ rebel  government  ” par- 
alyzed. The  Tory  party  was  known  to  be  strong 
in  Pennsylvania,  and  the  circumstances  under 
which  Maryland  had  declared  for  independence, 
last  of  all  the  colonies  save  New  York,  were  such 
as  to  make  it  seem  probable  that  there  also  the 
loyalist  feeling  was  very  powerful.  Lee  did  not 
hesitate  to  assert,  as  of  his  own  personal  know- 
ledge, that  the  people  of  Maryland  and  Pennsylva- 
nia were  nearly  all  loyalists,  who  only  awaited  the 
arrival  of  a British  army  in  order  to  declare  them- 
selves. He  therefore  recommended  that  14,000 
men  should  drive  Washington  out  of  New  Jersey 
and  capture  Philadelphia,  while  the  remainder  of 


SARATOGA. 


303 


Howe’s  army,  4,000  in  number,  should  go  around 
by  sea  to  Chesapeake  Bay,  and  occupy  Alexandria 
and  Annapolis.  From  these  points,  if  Lord  Howe 
were  to  issue  a proclamation  of  amnesty,  the  pacifi- 
cation of  the  “ central  colonies  ” might  be  effected 
in  less  than  two  months ; and  so  confident  of  afi 
this  did  the  writer  feel  that  he  declared  himself 
ready  to  “stake  his  life  upon  the  issue,”  a remark 
which  betrays,  perhaps,  what  was  uppermost  in  his 
mind  throughout  the  whole  proceeding.  At  the 
same  time,  he  argued  that  offensive  operations  to-> 
ward  the  north  could  not  “ answer  any  sort  of 
purpose,”  since  the  northern  provinces  “are  at 
present  neither  the  seat  of  government,  strength, 
nor  politics ; and  the  apprehensions  from  General 
Carleton’s  army  will,  I am  confident,  keep  the 
New  Englanders  at  home,  or  at  least  confine  ’em 
to  the  east  side  the  [Hudson]  river.” 

It  will  be  observed  that  this  plan  of  Lee’s  was 
similar  to  that  of  Lord  George  Germain,  in  so 
far  as  it  aimed  at  thrusting  the  British  power  like 
a wedge  into  the  centre  of  the  confederacy,  and  thus 
cutting  asunder  New  England  and  Virginia,  the 
two  chief  centres  of  the  rebellion.  But  instead  of 
aiming  his  blow  at  the  Hudson  river,  Lee  aims  it 
at  Philadelphia,  as  the  “ rebel  capital ; ” and  his 
reason  for  doing  this  shows  how  little  he  under- 
stood American  affairs,  and  how  strictly  he  viewed 
them  in  the  light  of  his  military  experience  in 
Europe.  In  European  warfare  it  is  cus-  Follyof  mov. 
tomary  to  strike  at  the  enemy’s  capi- 
tal  city,  in  order  to  get  control  of  his  “rebei  capital.” 
whole  system  of  administration  ; but  that  the  pos- 


304 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


session  of  an  enemy’s  capital  is  not  always  deci- 
sive the  wars  of  Napoleon  have  most  abundantly 
proved.  The  battles  of  Austerlitz  in  1805  and 
Wagram  in  1809  were  fought  by  Napoleon  after 
he  had  entered  Vienna;  it  was  not  his  acquisition 
j>f  Berlin  in  1806,  but  his  victory  at  Friedland  in 
the  following  summer,  that  completed  the  over- 
throw of  Prussia;  and  where  he  had  to  contend 
against  a strong  and  united  national  feeling,  as  in 
Spain  and  Russia,  the  possession  of  the  capital  did 
not  help  him  in  the  least.  Nevertheless,  in  Euro- 
pean countries,  where  the  systems  of  administra- 
tion are  highly  centralized,  it  is  usually  advisable 
to  move  upon  the  enemy’s  capital.  But  to  apply 
such  a principle  to  Philadelphia  in  1777  was  the 
height  of  absurdity.  Philadelphia  had  been  se- 
lected for  the  meetings  of  the  Continental  Con- 
gress because  of  its  geographical  position.  It  was 
the  most  centrally  situated  of  our  large  towns, 
but  it  was  in  no  sense  the  centre  of  a vast  admin- 
istrative machinery.  If  taken  by  an  enemy,  it  was 
only  necessary  for  Congress  to  move  to  any  other 
town,  and  everything  would  go  on  as  before.  As 
it  was  not  an  administrative,  so  neither  was  it  a 
military  centre.  It  commanded  no  great  system  of 
interior  highways,  and  it  was  comparatively  diffi- 
cult to  protect  by  the  fleet.  It  might  be  argued, 
on  the  other  hand,  that  because  Philadelphia  was 
the  largest  town  in  the  United  States,  and  pos- 
sessed of  a certain  preeminence  as  the  seat  of 
Congress,  the  acquisition  of  it  by  the  invaders 
would  give  them  a certain  moral  advantage.  It 
would  help  the  Tory  party,  and  discourage  the 


SARATOGA, 


305 


patriots.  Such  a gain,  however,  would  be  trifling 
compared  with  the  loss  which  might  come  ±rom 
Howe’s  failure  to  cooperate  with  Burgoyne ; and 
so  the  event  most  signally  proved. 

Just  how  far  the  Howes  were  persuaded  by  Lee’s 
arguments  must  be  a matter  of  inference.  The 
course  which  they  ultimately  pursued,  in  close  con- 
formity with  the  suggestions  of  this  remarkable 
document,  was  so  disastrous  to  the  British  cause  that 
the  author  might  almost  seem  to  have  been  inten- 
tionally luring  them  off  on  a false  scent.  Effect  of  Lee,s 
One  would  gladly  take  so  charitable  a advice- 
view  of  the  matter,  were  it  not  both  inconsistent 
with  what  we  have  already  seen  of  Lee,  and  utterly 
negatived  by  his  scandalous  behaviour  the  following 
year,  after  his  restoration  to  his  command  in  the 
American  army.  We  cannot  doubt  that  Lee  gave 
his  advice  in  sober  earnest.  That  considerable 
weight  was  attached  to  it  is  shown  by  a secret  let- 
ter from  Sir  William  Howe  to  Lord  George  Ger- 
main, dated  the  2d  of  April,  or  four  days  after 
the  date  of  Lee’s  extraordinary  document.  In  this 
letter,  Howe  intimates  for  the  first  time  that  he 
has  an  expedition  in  mind  which  may  modify  the 
scheme  for  a joint  campaign  with  the  northern 
army  along  the  line  of  the  Hudson.  To  this  sug- 
gestion Lord  George  replied  on  the  18th  of  May : 
“ I trust  that  whatever  you  may  meditate  will  be 
executed  in  time  for  you  to  cooperate  with  the 
army  to  proceed  from  Canada.”  It  was  a few 
days  after  this  that  Lord  George,  perhaps  feeling 
a little  uneasy  about  the  matter,  wrote  that  imper- 
ative order  which  lay  in  its  pigeon-hole  in  London 
until  all  the  damage  was  done. 


306 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


With  these  data  at  our  command,  it  becomes 
easy  to  comprehend  General  Howe’s  movements 
during  the  spring  and  summer.  His  first  inten- 
tion was  to  push  across  New  Jersey  with  the  great 
body  of  his  army,  and  occupy  Philadelphia ; and 
since  he  had  twice  as  many  men  as  Washington, 
he  might  hope  to  do  this  in  time  to  get  back  to  the 
Hudson  as  soon  as  he  was  likely  to  be  needed  there. 
He  began  his  march  on  the  12th  of  June,  five  days 
before  Burgoyne’s  flotilla  started  southward  on 
Lake  Champlain.  The  enterprise  did  not  seem 
hazardous,  but  Howe  was  completely  foiled  by 

Washington’s  Washington’s  superior  strategy.  Before 
masterly  cam-  the  British  commander  had  fairly  be- 

paign  in  New  # ^ 

June>  gun  to  move,  Washington,  from  various 
symptoms,  divined  his  purpose,  and 
coming  down  from  his  lair  at  Morristown,  planted 
himself  on  the  heights  of  Middlebrook,  within  ten 
miles  of  New  Brunswick,  close  upon  the  flank  of 
Howe’s  line  of  march.  Such  a position,  occupied  by 
8,000  men  under  such  a general,  was  equivalent  to 
a fortress  which  it  would  not  do  for  Howe  to  pass 
by  and  leave  in  his  rear.  But  the  position  was  so 
strong  that  to  try  to  storm  it  would  be  to  invite 
defeat.  It  remained  to  be  seen  what  could  be  done 
by  manoeuvring.  The  British  army  of  18,000  men 
was  concentrated  at  New  Brunswick,  with  plenty 
of  boats  for  crossing  the  Delaware  river,  when 
that  obstacle  should  be  reached.  But  the  really 
insuperable  obstacle  was  close  at  hand.  A cam- 
paign of  eighteen  days  ensued,  consisting  of  wily 
marches  and  counter-marches,  the  result  of  which 
showed  that  Washington’s  advantage  of  position 


SARATOGA . 


307 


could  not  be  wrested  from  him.  Howe  could 
neither  get  by  him  nor  outwit  him,  and  was  too 
prudent  to  attack  him;  and  accordingly,  on  the 
last  day  of  June,  he  abandoned  his  first  plan,  and 
evacuated  New  Jersey,  taking  his  whole  army  over 
to  Staten  Island. 

This  campaign  has  attracted  far  less  attention 
than  it  deserves,  mainly,  no  doubt,  because  it  con- 
tained no  battles  or  other  striking  incidents.  It 
was  purely  a series  of  strategic  devices.  But  in 
point  of  military  skill  it  was,  perhaps,  as  remark- 
able as  anything  that  Washington  ever  did,  and  it 
certainly  occupies  a cardinal  position  in  the  history 
of  the  overthrow  of  Burgoyne.  For  if  Howe  had 
been  able  to  take  Philadelphia  early  in  the  sum- 
mer, it  is  difficult  to  see  what  could  have  prevented 
him  from  returning  and  ascending  the  Hudson,  in 
accordance  with  the  plan  of  the  ministry.  Now 
the  month  of  June  was  gone,  and  Burgoyne  was 
approaching  Ticonderoga.  Howe  ought  to  have 
held  himself  in  readiness  to  aid  him,  but  he  could 
not  seem  to  get  Philadelphia,  the  “ rebel  capital,” 
out  of  his  mind.  His  next  plan  coincided  remark- 
ably with  the  other  half  of  Lee’s  scheme.  He  de- 
cided to  go  around  to  Philadelphia  by  uncertainty 
sea,  but  he  was  slow  in  starting,  and  next  S'8 
seems  to  have  paused  for  a moment  to  ment8, 
watch  the  course  of  events  at  the  north.  He  be- 
gan early  in  July  to  put  his  men  on  board  ship, 
but  confided  his  plans  to  no  one  but  Cornwallis 
and  Grant ; and  his  own  army,  as  well  as  the 
Americans,  believed  that  this  show  of  going  to  sea 
was  only  a feint  to  disguise  his  real  intention. 


308 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


Every  one  supposed  that  he  would  go  up  the  Hud- 
son.  As  soon  as  New  J ersey  was  evacuated  Wash- 
ington moved  back  to  Morristown,  and  threw  his 
advance,  under  Sullivan,  as  far  north  as  Pompton, 
so  as  to  be  ready  to  cooperate  with  Putnam  in  the 
Highlands,  at  a moment’s  notice.  As  soon  as  it 
became  known  that  Ticonderoga  had  fallen,  W ash- 
ington,  supposing  that  his  adversary  would  do  what 
a good  general  ought  to  do,  advanced  into  the 
Ramapo  Clove,  a rugged  defile  in  the  Highlands, 
near  Haverstraw,  and  actually  sent  the  divisions  of 
Sullivan  and  Stirling  across  the  river  to  Peeks- 
kill. 

All  this  while  Howe  kept  moving  some  of  his 
ships,  now  up  the  Hudson,  now  into  the  Sound, 
now  off  from  Sandy  Hook,  so  that  people  might 
doubt  whether  his  destination  were  the  Highlands, 
or  Boston,  or  Philadelphia.  Probably  his  own  mind 
was  not  fully  made  up  until  after  the  news  from 
Ticonderoga.  Then,  amid  the  general  exultation, 
he  seems  to  have  concluded  that  Burgoyne  would 
be  able  to  take  care  of  himself,  at  least  with  such 
cooperation  as  he  might  get  from  Sir  Henry  Clin- 
ton. In  this  mood  he  wrote  to  Burgoyne  as  follows : 
“ I have  . . . heard  from  the  rebel  army  of  your 
being  in  possession  of  Ticonderoga,  which  is  a great 
event,  carried  without  loss.  . . . Washington  is 
Howe’s  letter  waiting  our  motions  here,  and  has  de- 
to  Burgoyne.  tached  Sullivan  with  about  2,500  men, 
as  I learn,  to  Albany.  My  intention  is  for  Penn- 
sylvania, where  I expect  to  meet  W ashington ; but 
if  he  goes  to  the  northward,  contrary  to  my  expec- 
tations, and  you  can  keep  him  at  bay,  be  assured  I 


SARATOGA. 


309 


shall  soon  be  after  him  to  relieve  you.  After  your 
arrival  at  Albany,  the  movements  of  the  enemy 
will  guide  yours ; but  my  wishes  are  that  the  enemy 
be  drove  [sic]  out  of  this  province  before  any 
operation  takes  place  in  Connecticut.  Sir  Henry 
Clinton  remains  in  the  command  here,  and  will  act 
as  occurrences  may  direct.  Putnam  is  in  the  High- 
lands  with  about  4,000  men.  Success  be  ever  with 
you.”  This  letter,  which  was  written  on  very  nar- 
row strips  of  thin  paper,  and  conveyed  in  a quill, 
did  not  reach  Burgoyne  till  the  middle  of  Septem- 
ber, when  things  wore  a very  different  aspect  from 
that  which  they  wore  in  the  middle  of  July.  Noth- 
ing could  better  illustrate  the  rash,  overconfident 
spirit  in  which  Howe  proceeded  to  carry  out  his 
southern  scheme.  A few  days  afterward  he  put  to 
sea  with  the  fleet  of  228  sail,  carrying  an  army  of 
18,000  men,  while  7,000  were  left  in  New  York, 
under  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  to  garrison  the  city  and 
act  according  to  circumstances.  Just  before  sailing 
Howe  wrote  a letter  to  Burgoyne,  stating  that  the 
destination  of  his  fleet  was  Boston,  and  he  artfully 
contrived  that  this  letter  should  fall  into  Washing- 
ton’s hands.  But  Washington  was  a difficult  per- 
son to  hoodwink.  On  reading  the  letter  he  rightly 
inferred  that  Howe  had  gone  southward.  Accord- 
ingly, recalling  Sullivan  and  Stirling  to  the  west 
side  of  the  Hudson,  he  set  out  for  the  Delaware, 
but  proceeded  very  cautiously,  lest  Howe  should 
suddenly  retrace  his  course,  and  dart  up  the  Hud- 
son. To  guard  against  such  an  emergency,  he  let 
Sullivan  advance  no  farther  than  Morristown,  and 
kept  everything  in  readiness  for  an  instant  counter* 


310 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


march.  In  a letter  of  July  30th  he  writes,  “ Howe’s 
in  a manner  abandoning  Burgoyne  is  so  unaccount' 
able  a matter  that,  till  I am  fully  assured  of  it,  Jt 
cannot  help  casting  my  eyes  continually  behind 
me”  Next  day,  learning  that  the  fleet  had  arrived 
at  the  Capes  of  Delaware,  he  advanced  to  German- 
town ; but  on  the  day  after,  when  he  heard  that 
the  fleet  had  put  out  to  sea  again,  he  suspected 
that  the  whole  movement  had  been  a feint.  He 
believed  that  Howe  would  at  once  return  to  the 
Hudson,  and  immediately  ordered  Sullivan  to 
counter-march,  while  he  held  himself  ready  to  fol- 
low at  a moment’s  notice.  His  best  gen- 

Comments  of  , . ..  _ . . T 

waswngton  erals  entertained  the  same  opinion.  “ 1 
cannot  persuade  myself,”  said  Greene, 
“ that  General  Burgoyne  would  dare  to  push  with 
such  rapidity  towards  Albany  if  he  did  not  expect 
support  from  General  Howe.”  A similar  view  of 
the  military  exigencies  of  the  case  was  taken  by 
the  British  officers,  who,  almost  to  a man,  disap- 
proved of  the  southward  movement.  They  knew 
as  well  as  Greene  that,  however  fine  a city  Phila- 
delphia might  be,  it  was  “ an  object  of  far  less 
military  importance  than  the  Hudson  river.” 

No  wonder  that  the  American  generals  were 
wide  of  the  mark  in  their  conjectures,  for  the  folly 
of  Howe’s  movements  after  reaching  the  mouth 
of  the  Delaware  was  quite  beyond  credence,  and 
would  be  inexplicable  to-day  except  as  the  result 
Howe’s  ai-  °f  the  wild  advice  of  the  marplot  Lee. 
trumpedSup  Howe  alleged  as  his  reason  for  turn- 
and  worthless.  jng  away  fr0m  the  Delaware  that  there 

were  obstructions  in  the  river  and  forts  to  pass,  and 


SARATOGA . 


311 


accordingly  lie  thought  it  best  to  go  around  by  waj 
of  Chesapeake  Bay,  and  land  his  army  at  Elkton. 
Now  he  might  easily  have  gone  a little  way  up  the 
Delaware  river  without  encountering  any  obstruc- 
tions whatever,  and  landed  his  troops  at  a point 
only  thirteen  miles  east  of  Elkton.  Instead  of 
attempting  this,  he  wasted  twenty-four  days  in  a 
voyage  of  four  hundred  miles,  mostly  against  head- 
winds, in  order  to  reach  the  same  point ! No  sen- 
sible antagonist  could  be  expected  to  understand 
such  eccentric  behaviour.  No  wonder  that,  after  it 
had  become  clear  that  the  fleet  had  gone  south- 
ward, Washington  should  have  supposed  an  attack 
on  Charleston  to  be  intended.  A council  of  war 
on  the  21st  decided  that  this  must  be  the  case,  and 
since  an  overland  march  of  seven  hundred  miles 
could  not  be  accomplished  in  time  to  prevent  such 
an  attack,  it  was  decided  to  go  back  to  New  York, 
and  operate  against  Sir  Henry  Clinton.  But  be- 
fore this  decision  was  acted  on  Howe  appeared  at 
the  head  of  Chesapeake  Bay,  where  he  landed  hi* 
forces  at  Elkton.  It  was  now  the  25th  of  August, 
— nine  days  after  the  battle  of  Bennington  and 
three  days  after  the  flight  of  St.  Leger.  Since 
entering  Chesapeake  Bay,  Howe  had  re-  Blirgoyne,s 
ceived  Lord  George  Germain’s  letter  fatepracti- 

° cally  decided* 

of  May  18th,  telling  him  that  whatever 
he  had  to  do  ought  to  be  done  in  time  for  him  to 
cooperate  with  Burgoyne.  Now  Burgoyne’s  situa- 
tion had  become  dangerous,  and  here  was  Howe  at 
Elkton,  fifty  miles  southwest  of  Philadelphia,  with 
Washington’s  army  in  front  of  him,  and  more  than 
three  hundred  miles  away  from  Burgoyne  1 


812 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION . 


On  hearing  of  Howe’s  arrival  at  the  head  of 
Chesapeake  Bay,  Washington  had  advanced  as  far 
as  Wilmington  to  meet  him.  The  first  proceeding 
of  the  British  general,  on  landing  at  Elkton,  was  to 
issue  his  proclamation  of  amnesty  ; but  it  did  not 
bring  him  many  recruits.  A counter-proclamation, 
drawn  up  by  Luther  Martin,  sufficed  to  neutralize 
it.  Though  there  were  many  people  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood who  cared  little  for  the  cause  of  indepen- 
dence, there  were  but  few  who  sympathized  with 
the  invaders  enough  to  render  them  any  valuable 
assistance.  It  was  through  a country  indifferent, 
perhaps,  but  not  friendly  in  feeling,  that  the  Brit- 
ish army  cautiously  pushed  its  way  northward  for 
a fortnight,  until  it  reached  the  village  of  Kennett 
Square,  six  miles  west  of  the  Brandywine  Creek, 
behind  which  Washington  had  planted  himself  to 
oppose  its  progress. 

The  time  had  arrived  when  Washington  felt  it 
„ necessary  to  offer  battle,  even  though 

Washington’s  J ° 

reasons  for  of-  such  a step  might  not  be  iustified  from 
purely  military  reasons.  The  people 
were  weary  of  a Fabian  policy  which  they  did  not 
comprehend,  and  Washington  saw  that  even  if  he 
were  defeated,  the  moral  effect  upon  the  country 
would  not  be  so  bad  as  if  he  were  to  abandon  Phil- 
adelphia without  a blow.  A victory  he  was  hardly 
entitled  to  expect,  since  he  had  but  11,000  men 
against  Howe’s  18,000,  and  since  the  British  were 
still  greatly  superior  in  equipment  and  discipline. 
Under  these  circumstances  Washington  chose  his 
ground  with  his  usual  sagacity,  and  took  possession 
of  it  by  a swift  and  masterly  movement.  The 


SARATOGA. 


318 


Brandywine  Creek  ran  directly  athwart  Howe’s 
line  of  march  to  Philadelphia.  Though  large 
enough  to  serve  as  a military  obstacle,  — in  Eng- 
land it  would  be  called  a river,  — it  was  crossed 
by  numerous  fords,  of  which  the  principal  one, 
Chadd’s  Ford,  lay  in  Howe’s  way.  Washington 
placed  the  centre  of  his  army  iust  be- 

“ He  chooses  a 

hind  Chadd’s  Ford  and  across  the  road,  very  strong 

position. 

His  centre  was  defended  in  front  by  a 
corps  of  artillery  under  Wayne,  while  Greene,  on 
some  high  ground  in  the  rear,  was  stationed  as  a 
reserve.  Below  Chadd’s  Ford,  the  Brandywine 
becomes  a roaring  torrent,  shut  in  between  steep,’ 
high  cliffs,  so  that  the  American  left,  resting  upon 
these  natural  defences,  was  sufficiently  guarded  by 
the  Pennsylvania  militia  under  Armstrong.  The 
right  wing,  stretching  two  miles  up  the  stream, 
into  an  uneven  and  thickly  wooded  country,  was 
commanded  by  Sullivan. 

This  was  a very  strong  position.  On  the  left  it 
was  practically  inaccessible.  To  try  storming  it 
in  front  would  be  a doubtful  experiment,  sure  to 
result  in  terrible  loss  of  life.  The  only  weak  point 
was  the  right,  which  could  be  taken  in  flank  by  a 
long  circuitous  march  through  the  woods.  Accord- 
ingly, on  the  morning  of  the  11th  of  „ , # , 
September,  the  British  right  wing,  un- 
der  Knyphausen,  began  skirmishing  and 
occupying  Washington’s  attention  at  Chadd’s 
Ford ; while  the  left  column,  under  the  energetic 
Cornwallis,  marched  up  the  Lancaster  road, 
crossed  the  forks  of  the  Brandywine,  and  turned 
southward  toward  Birmingham  church,  with  ths 


314 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


intention  of  striking  the  rear  of  the  American 
right  wing.  It  was  similar  to  the  flanking  move- 
ment which  had  been  tried  so  successfully  at  the 
battle  of  Long  Island,  a year  before.  It  was  quite 
like  the  splendid  movement  of  Stonewall  Jackson 
at  Chancellorsville,  eighty-five  years  afterward. 
In  Howe’s  time  such  flanking  marches  were  emi- 
nently fashionable.  It  was  in  this  way  that  the 
great  Frederick  had  won  some  of  his  most  aston- 
ishing victories.  They  were,  nevertheless,  then  as 
always,  dangerous  expedients,  as  the  stupendous 
overthrow  of  the  Austro-Russian  army  at  Auster- 
litz  was  by  and  by  to  show.  There  is  always  a se- 
rious chance  that  the  tables  may  be  turned.  Such 
flanking  movements  are  comparatively  safe,  how- 
ever, when  the  attacking  army  greatly  outnumbers 
the  army  attacked,  as  at  the  Brandywine.  But  in 
all  cases  the  chief  element  in  their  success  is  se- 
crecy ; above  all  things,  the  party  attacked  must  be 
kept  in  the  dark. 

These  points  are  admirably  illustrated  in  the 
battle  of  the  Brandywine.  The  danger  of  a flank 
attack  upon  his  right  wing  was  well  understood  by 
Washington ; and  as  soon  as  he  heard  that  Corn- 
wallis was  marching  up  the  Lancaster  road,  he 
considered  the  feasibleness  of  doing  what  Freder- 
ick would  probably  have  done,  — of  crossing 
quickly  at  Chadd’s  and  Brinton’s  fords,  in  full 
force,  and  crushing  Knyphausen’s  division.  This 
lie  could  doubtless  have  accomplished,  had  he  been 
so  fortunate  as  to  have  inherited  an  army  trained 
by  the  father  of  Frederick  the  Great.  But  Wash- 
ington’s army  was  not  yet  well  trained,  and  its 


SARATOGA . 


315 


numerical  inferiority  was  sucli  that  Knyphausen’s 
division  might  of  itself  be  regarded  as  a fair  match 
for  it.  The  British  movement  was,  therefore,  well 
considered,  and  it  was  doubtless  right  that  Wash- 
ington did  not  return  the  offensive  by  crossing  the 
creek.  Moreover,  the  organization  of  his  staff  was 
far  from  complete.  He  was  puzzled  by  conflicting 
reports  as  to  the  enemy’s  movements.  While  con- 
sidering the  question  of  throwing  his  whole  force 
against  Knyphausen,  he  was  stopped  by  a false  re- 
port that  Cornwallis  was  not  moving  upon  his 
flank.  So  great  was  the  delay  in  getting  intelli- 
gence that  Cornwallis  had  accomplished  his  long 
march  of  eighteen  miles,  and  was  approaching  Bir- 
mingham church,  before  it  was  well  known  where 
he  was.  Nevertheless,  his  intention  of  dealing  a 
death-blow  to  the  American  army  was  forestalled 
and  partially  checked.  Before  he  had  reached  our 
right  wing,  Washington  had  ordered  Sullivan  to 
form  a new  front  and  advance  toward  Birmingham 
church.  Owing  to  the  imperfect  discipline  of  the 
troops,  Sullivan  executed  the  movement  rather 
clumsily,  but  enough  was  accomplished  to  save  the 
army  from  rout.  In  the  obstinate  and  murderous 
fight  which  ensued  near  Birmingham  church  be- 
tween Cornwallis  and  Sullivan,  the  latter  was  at 
length  slowly  pushed  back  in  the  direction  of  Dil- 
worth.  To  save  the  army  from  being  broken  in 
two,  it  was  now  necessary  for  the  centre  to  retreat 
upon  Chester  by  way  of  Dilworth,  and  this  move- 
ment was  accomplished  by  Greene  with  consum- 
mate skill.  It  was  now  possible  for  Knyphausen 
to  advance  across  Chadd’s  Ford  against  Wayne’s 


816 


TUE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


position ; and  he  did  so,  aided  by  the  right  wing 
of  Cornwallis’s  division,  which,  instead  of  joining 
in  the  oblique  pursuit  toward  Dilworth,  kept 
straight  onward,  and  came  down  upon  Wayne’s 
rear.  Nothing  was  left  for  Wayne  and  Armstrong 
but  to  retreat  and  join  the  rest  of  the  army  at 
Chester,  and  so  the  battle  of  the  Brandywine  came 
to  an  end. 

This  famous  battle  was  admirably  conducted  on 
both  sides.  The  risk  assumed  in  the  long  flanking 
march  of  Cornwallis  was  fully  justified.  The  poor 
organization  of  the  American  army  was  of  course 
well  known  to  the  British  commanders,  and  they 
took  advantage  of  the  fact.  Had  they  been  deal- 
ing with  an  organization  as  efficient  as  their  own, 
their  course  would  have  been  foolhardy.  On  the 
other  hand,  when  we  consider  the  relative  strength 
of  the  two  armies,  it  is  clear  that  the  bold  move  of 
Cornwallis  ought  not  simply  to  have  won  the  field 
of  battle.  It  ought  to  have  annihilated  the  Amer- 
ican army,  had  not  its  worst  consequences  been 
averted  by  Washington’s  promptness,  aided  by 
Sullivan’s  obstinate  bravery  and  Greene’s  masterly 
conduct  of  the  retreat  upon  Dilworth.  As  it  was, 
the  American  soldiers  came  out  of  the  fight  in 
good  order.  Nothing  could  be  more  absurd  than 
the  careless  statement,  so  often  made,  that  the 
Americans  were  “ routed  ” at  the  Brandywine. 
Their  organization  was  preserved,  and  at  Chester, 
next  day,  they  were  as  ready  for  fight  as  ever. 
They  had  exacted  from  the  enemy  a round  price 
for  the  victory.  The  American  loss  was  a little 
more  than  1,000,  incurred  chiefly  in  Sullivan’s  gal* 


BATTLE  OF  THE  BRANDYWINE 
September  ii,  1777 


HE£  LffiMBY 

OF  THE 

•MVEfWTjr  if  ILUMiit 


SARATOGA. 


317 


lant  struggle ; rolls  afterward  captured  at  Ger- 
mantown showed  that  the  British  loss  considerably 
exceeded  that  figure. 

So  far  as  the  possession  of  Philadelphia  was 
concerned,  the  British  victory  was  decisive. 
When  the  news  came,  next  morning,  that  the  army 
had  retreated  upon  Chester,  there  was  great  con- 
sternation in  the  “rebel  capital.”  Some  timid 
people  left  their  homes,  and  sought  refuge  in  the 
mountains.  Congress  fled  to  Lancaster,  first 
clothing  W ashington  for  sixty  days  with  the  same 
extraordinary  powers  which  had  been  granted  him 
the  year  before.  Yet  there  was  no  need  of  such 
unseemly  haste,  for  Washington  de- 

. 1 Washington’s 

tamed  the  victorious  enemy  a fortnight  skm  in  detain- 
on  the  march  of  only  twenty-six  miles ; 
a feat  which  not  even  Napoleon  could  have  per- 
formed with  an  army  that  had  just  been  “ routed.” 
He  had  now  heard  of  Stark’s  victory  and  St.  Leg- 
er’s  flight,  and  his  letters  show  how  clearly  he  fore- 
saw Burgoyne’s  inevitable  fate,  provided  Howe 
could  be  kept  away  from  him.  To  keep  Howe’s 
whole  force  employed  near  Philadelphia  as  long  as 
possible  was  of  the  utmost  importance.  Accord- 
ingly, during  the  fortnight  following  the  battle  of 
the  Brandywine,  every  day  saw  manoeuvres  or 
skirmishes,  in  one  of  which  General  Wayne  was 
defeated  by  Sir  Charles  Grey,  with  a loss  of  three 
hundred  men.  On  the  26th,  while  The  British 
Howe  established  his  headquarters  at  deiphi^sept. 
Germantown,  Cornwallis  entered  Phila-  26‘ 
delphia  in  triumph,  marching  with  bands  of  music 
and  flying  colours,  and  all  the  troops  decked  out 
in  their  finest  scarlet  array. 


818 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION . 


Having  got  possession  of  the  “ rebel  capital,” 
the  question  now  arose  whether  it  would  be  possi- 
ble to  hold  it  through  the  winter.  The  Delaware 
river,  below  the  city,  had  been  carefully  ob- 
structed by  chevaux-de-frise , which  were  guarded 
. by  two  strong  fortresses,  — Fort  Mifflin 

Significance  of  J ° , 5 

Forts  Mercer  on  an  island  in  mid-stream,  and  Fort 

end  Mifflin.  7 

Mercer  on  the  Jersey  shore.  The  river 
was  here  about  two  miles  in  width,  but  it  was  im- 
possible for  ships  to  pass  until  the  forts  should 
have  been  reduced.  About  the  first  of  October, 
after  a rough  return  voyage  of  four  hundred  miles, 
Lord  Howe’s  fleet  appeared  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Delaware.  It  was  absolutely  necessary  to  gain 
control  of  the  river,  in  order  that  the  city  might 
get  supplies  by  sea;  for  so  long  as  Washington’s 
army  remained  unbroken,  the  Americans  were 
quite  able  to  cut  off  all  supplies  by  land.  Sir 
William  Howe,  therefore,  threw  a portion  of  his 
forces  across  the  river,  to  aid  his  brother  in  redu- 
cing the  forts.  The  quick  eye  of  Washington  now 
saw  an  opportunity  for  attacking  the  main  British 
army,  while  thus  temporarily  weakened ; and  he 
forthwith  planned  a brilliant  battle,  which  was 
fated  to  be  lost,  at  the  very  moment  of  victory,  by 
an  extraordinary  accident. 

The  village  of  Germantown,  by  the  bank  of  the 
Schuylkill  river,  was  then  separated  from  Phila- 
delphia by  about  six  miles  of  open  country.  The 
village  consisted  chiefly  of  a single  street. 

The  situation  , ..  . , . . . 

at  German-  about  two  miles  in  length,  with  stone 

houses  on  either  side,  standing  about  a 
hundred  yards  apart  from  each  other,  and  sur- 


SARATOGA. 


319 


rounded  by  gardens  and  orchards.  Near  the  upper 
end  of  the  street,  in  the  midst  of  ornamental  shrub- 
bery, vases,  and  statues,  arranged  in  a French  style 
of  landscape  gardening,  stood  the  massively  built 
house  of  Benjamin  Chew,  formerly  Chief  Justice 
of  Pennsylvania.  About  a mile  below,  at  the 
Market  House,  the  main  street  was  crossed  at  right 
angles  by  the  Old  School  Lane.  Beside  the  main 
street,  running  over  Chestnut  Hill,  the  village  was 
approached  from  the  northward  by  three  roads. 
The  Monatawny  road  ran  down  by  the  bank  of 
the  Schuylkill,  and,  crossing  the  Old  School  Lane, 
bore  on  toward  Philadelphia.  The  Limekiln  road, 
coming  from  the  northeast,  became  continuous  with 
the  Old  School  Lane.  The  Old  York  road,  still 
further  eastward,  joined  the  main  street  at  the  Ris- 
ing Sun  tavern,  about  two  miles  below  the  Market 
House. 

The  British  army  lay  encamped  just  behind  the 
Old  School  Lane,  in  the  lower  part  of  the  village : 
the  left  wing,  under  Knyphausen,  to  the  west  of 
the  main  street ; the  right,  under  Grant,  to  the 
east.  A strong  detachment  of  chasseurs , under 
Sir  Charles  Grey,  covered  the  left  wing.  About 
a mile  in  advance  of  the  army,  Colonel  Musgrave’s 
regiment  lay  in  a field  opposite  Judge  Chew’s 
house  ; and  yet  a mile  farther  forward  a battalion 
of  light  infantry  was  stationed  on  the  slight  emi- 
nence known  as  Mount  Airy,  where  a small  bat- 
tery commanded  the  road  to  the  north. 

Washington’s  plan  of  attack  seems  to  have  con- 
templated nothing  less  than  the  destruction  or 
capture  of  the  British  army.  His  forces  were  to  ad- 


320  THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 

vance  from  the  north  by  all  four  roads  at  once,  and 
converge  upon  the  British  at  the  Map 

Washington’s  ° A . , , 

audacious  ket  House.  I he  American  right  wing, 

under  Sullivan,  and  consisting  of  Sul- 
livan’s own  brigade,  with  those  of  Conway,  Wayne, 
Maxwell,  and  Nash,  was  to  march  down  the  main 
street,  overwhelm  the  advanced  parties  of  the  Brit- 
ish, and  engage  their  left  wing  in  front;  while 
Armstrong,  with  the  Pennsylvania  militia,  was  to 
move  down  the  Monatawny  road,  and  take  the 
same  wing  in  flank.  The  American  left  wing,  com- 
manded by  Greene,  was  also  to  proceed  in  two  col- 
umns. Greene,  with  his  own  brigade,  supported 
by  Stephen  and  McDougal,  was  to  march  down 
the  Limekiln  road,  and  assail  the  British  right 
wing  in  front  and  in  flank ; while  Smallwood  and 
Forman,  coming  down  the  Old  York  road,  were 
to  strike  the  same  wing  in  the  rear.  The  flank 
attack  upon  the  British  left,  entrusted  as  it  was  to 
militia,  was  intended  merely  as  a demonstration. 
The  attack  upon  their  right,  conducted  by  more 
than  half  of  the  American  army,  including  its  best 
troops,  was  intended  to  crush  that  wing,  and  fold- 
ing back  the  whole  British  army  upon  the  Schuyl- 
kill river,  compel  it  to  surrender. 

Considering  that  the  Americans  had  not  even 
yet  a superiority  in  numbers,  this  was  a most  auda- 
cious plan.  No  better  instance  could  be  given  of 
the  spirit  of  wild  and  venturous  daring  which  was 
as  conspicuous  in  Washington  as  his  cautious  vigi- 
lance, whenever  any  fit  occasion  arose  for  display- 
ing it.  The  scheme  came  surprisingly  near  to 
success ; so  near  as  to  redeem  it  from  the  imputa- 


BATTLE  OF  GERMANTOWN 
October  4,  1777 


tm  Limm 

3F  THE 

•wwwtt  if  umw 


SARATOGA. 


321 


tion  of  foolhardiness,  and  to  show  that  here,  as  in 
all  Washington’s  military  movements,  cool  judg- 
ment went  along  with  fiery  dash.  At  seven  in  the 
evening  of  the  3d  of  October,  the  night 
march  upon  Germantown  began,  W ash-  mantown,06^ 
ington  accompanying  Sullivan’s  column.  0ct* 4’ 

At  sunrise  a heavy  fog  came  up,  and  the  darkness 
went  on  increasing.  Soon  after  the  hour  of  day- 
break the  light  infantry  upon  Mount  Airy  were 
surprised  and  routed,  and  the  battery  was  cap- 
tured. Musgrave  was  next  overwhelmed  by  the 
heavy  American  column ; but  he,  with  a small 
force,  took  refuge  in  Judge  Chew’s  house,  and  set 
up  a brisk  fire  from  the  windows.  The  Americans 
opened  an  artillery-fire  upon  the  house,  but  its 
stone  walls  were  too  solid  to  be  beaten  down  by  the 
three-pound  and  six-pound  field-pieces  of  that  day ; 
and  so  Maxwell’s  brigade  was  left  behind  to  besiege 
the  house,  while  the  rest  of  the  column  rushed  on 
down  the  street.  The  chief  effect  of  this  incident 
was  to  warn  the  enemy,  while  retarding  and  some- 
what weakening  the  American  charge.  Neverthe- 
less, the  fury  of  the  attack  was  such  as  to  discon- 
cert Knyphausen’s  veterans,  and  the  British  left 
wing  slowly  gave  way  before  Sullivan.  At  this 
moment,  Greene,  who  had  also  been  delayed,  at- 
tacked the  right  wing  with  such  vigour  as  presently 
to  force  it  back  toward  the  Market  House.  The 
British  ranks  were  falling  into  confusion,  and 
Smallwood’s  column  had  already  arrived  upon  their 
right  flank,  when  the  accident  occurred  which 
changed  the  fortunes  of  the  day.  From  the  begin- 
ning the  dense  fog  had  been  a source  of  confu* 


322 


TUE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION . 


sion  to  both  armies,  and  had  seriously  interfered 
with  the  solidity  of  the  American  advance.  Now, 
as  Stephen’s  brigade,  on  the  right  of  Greene’s 
column,  came  into  the  village,  the  heavy  firing  at 
Judge  Chew’s  seems  to  have  caused  him  to  di- 
verge more  and  more  to  the  west,  in  the  belief 
that  there  was  the  thick  of  the  battle.  At  the 
same  time,  Wayne,  in  driving  the  enemy  before 
him,  had  swayed  somewhat  to  the  east,  so  that  his 
brigade  stood  almost  directly  in  the  line  of  Ste- 
phen’s progress.  In  this  position  he  was  attacked 
by  Stephen,  who  mistook  him  for  the  enemy.  This 
lamentable  blunder  instantly  ruined  the  battle. 
Wayne’s  men,  thus  fiercely  attacked  in  the  rear, 
and  struggling  to  extricate  themselves,  were  thrown 
upon  the  left  flank  of  Sullivan’s  brigade,  and  a 
panic  suddenly  ran  through  the  army.  The  com 
fusion  grew  worse  and  worse,  till  a general  retreat 
began,  and  Grey,  who  had  come  up  to  support  the 
crumbling  right  wing  of  the  British,  was  now  able 
to  lead  in  the  pursuit  of  the  Americans.  He  was 
joined  by  Cornwallis,  who  had  sprung  from  his  bed 
in  Philadelphia  at  the  first  sound  of  the  cannon, 
and  had  brought  up  two  battalions  with  him  at 
double-quick.  But  the  panic  had  subsided  almost 
as  soon  as  the  golden  moment  of  victory  was  lost, 
and  the  retreat  was  conducted  in  excellent  order. 
One  regiment  in  Greene’s  column  was  surrounded 
and  captured,  but  the  army  brought  away  all  its 
cannon  and  wounded,  with  several  cannon  taken 
from  the  enemy.  The  loss  of  the  Americans  in 
killed  and  wounded  was  673,  and  the  loss  of  the 
British  was  535. 


SARATOGA. 


823 


The  fog  which  enshrouded  the  village  of  Ger- 
mantown on  that  eventful  morning  has  been  hardly 
less  confusing  to  historians  than  it  was  to  the 
armies  engaged.  The  reports  of  different  observers 
conflicted  in  many  details,  and  particularly  as  to 
the  immediate  occasion  of  the  fatal  panic.  The  best 
accounts  agree,  however,  that  the  entanglement  of 
Stephen  with  Wayne  was  chiefly  responsible  for 
the  disaster.  It  was  charged  against  Stephen  that 
he  had  taken  too  many  pulls  at  his  canteen  on  the 
long,  damp  night  march,  and  he  was  tried  by  court- 
martial,  and  dismissed  from  the  service.  The 
chagrin  of  the  Americans  at  losing  the  prize  so 
nearly  grasped  was  profound.  The  total  rout  of 
Howe,  coming  at  the  same  time  with  the  surrender 
of  Burgoyne,  would  probably  have  been  too  much 
for  Lord  North’s  ministry  to  bear,  and  might  have 
brought  the  war  to  a sudden  close.  As  it  was,  the 
British  took  an  undue  amount  of  comfort  in  the 
acquisition  of  Philadelphia,  though  so  long  as 
W ashington’s  army  remained  defiant  it  was  of  small 
military  value  to  them.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
genius  and  audacity  shown  by  Washington,  in 
thus  planning  and  so  nearly  accomplishing  the 
ruin  of  the  British  army  only  three  weeks  after 
the  defeat  at  the  Brandywine,  produced  a profound 
impression  upon  military  critics  in  Europe.  Fred- 
erick of  Prussia  saw  that  presently,  when  Ameri- 
can soldiers  should  come  to  be  disciplined  veterans, 
they  would  become  a very  formidable  instrument 
in  the  hands  of  their  great  commander ; and  the 
French  court,  in  making  up  its  mind  that  the 
Americans  would  prove  efficient  allies,  is  said  to 


824 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION . 


have  been  influenced  almost  as  much  by  the  battle 
of  Germantown  as  by  the  surrender  of  Burgoyne. 

Having  thus  escaped  the  catastrophe  which 
Washington  had  designed  for  him,  the 
Forts  Mercer8  British  commander  was  now  able  to  put 
forth  his  utmost  efforts  for  the  capture 
of  the  forts  on  the  Delaware.  His  utmost  efforts 
were  needed,  for  in  the  first  attack  on  Fort  Mercer, 
October  22,  the  Hessians  were  totally  defeated, 
with  the  loss  of  Count  Donop  and  400  men,  while 
the  Americans  lost  but  87.  But  after  a month  of 
hard  work,  with  the  aid  of  6,000  more  men  sent 
from  New  York  by  Clinton,  both  forts  were  re- 
duced, and  the  command  of  the  Delaware  was 
wrested  from  the  Americans.  Another  month  of 
manoeuvring  and  skirmishing  followed,  and  then 
Washington  took  his  army  into  winter-quarters  at 
Valley  Forge.  The  events  which  attended  his  so- 
journ in  that  natural  stronghold  belong  to  a later 
period  of  the  war.  We  must  now  return  to  the 
upper  waters  of  the  Hudson,  and  show  how  the 
whole  period,  which  may  be  most  fitly  described 
as  a struggle  for  the  control  of  the  great  central 
state  of  New  York,  was  brought  to  an  end  by  the 
complete  and  overwhelming  victory  of  the  Ameri- 
cans. 

We  have  seen  how  it  became  impossible  for 
Howe  to  act  upon  Lord  George  Germain’s  order, 
received  in  August,  in  Chesapeake  Bay,  and  get 
back  to  the  Hudson  in  time  to  be  of  any  use  to 
Burgoyne.  We  have  also  seen  how  critical  was 
the  situation  in  which  the  northern  general  was 


SARATOGA . 


325 


left,  after  the  destruction  of  Baum  and  St.  Leger, 
and  the  accumulation  of  New  England  yeomanry 
in  his  rear.  Burgoyne  now  fully  ac-  Burg0?ne 
knowledged  the  terrible  mistake  of  the 
ministry  in  assuming  that  the  resist-  Germaine- 
ance  of  the  Americans  was  due  to  the  machina- 
tions of  a few  wily  demagogues,  and  that  the  peo- 
ple would  hail  the  approach  of  the  king’s  troops 
as  deliverers.  “ The  great  bulk  of  the  country,” 
said  he,  “ is  undoubtedly  with  the  Congress  in 
principle  and  zeal,  and  their  measures  are  exe- 
cuted with  a secrecy  and  dispatch  that  are  not  to 
be  equalled.  . . . The  Hampshire  Grants,  in  par* 
ticular,  a country  unpeopled  and  almost  unknown 
last  war,  now  abounds  in  the  most  active  and  most 
rebellious  race  on  the  continent,  and  hangs  like  a 
gathering  storm  upon  my  left.”  The  situation 
had,  indeed,  become  so  alarming  that  it  is  hard  to 
say  what  Burgoyne  ought  to  have  done.  A retreat 
upon  Ticonderoga  would  have  been  fraught  with 
peril,  while  to  cross  the  Hudson  and  advance  upon 
Albany  would  be  doing  like  Cortes,  when  he  scut- 
tled his  ships.  But  Burgoyne  was  a man  of  chiv- 
alrous nature.  He  did  not  think  it  right  or  pru- 
dent to  abandon  Sir  William  Howe,  whom  he  still 
supposed  to  be  coming  up  the  river  to  meet  him. 
In  a letter  to  Lord  George  Germain,  written  three 
days  after  the  surrender,  he  says,  “ The  difficulty 
of  a retreat  upon  Canada  was  clearly  foreseen,  as 
was  the  dilemma,  should  the  retreat  be  effected,  of 
leaving  at  liberty  such  an  army  as  General  Gates’s 
to  operate  against  Sir  William  Howe.  This  con- 
sideration operated  forcibly  to  determine  me  to 


826 


TILE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


abide  events  as  long  as  possible,  and  I reasoned 
thus  : the  expedition  which  I commanded  was  at 
first  evidently  intended  to  be  hazarded ; circum* 
stances  might  require  it  should  be  devoted .” 

Influenced  by  these  views,  which  were  supported 
by  all  his  generals  except  Biedesel,  Burgoyne  threw 
a bridge  of  boats  across  the  Hudson, 
he  crosses  the  and  passed  over  with  his  whole  army  on 
the  18th  of  September.  The  Ameri- 
cans had  taken  a strong  position  on  Bemis  Heights, 
where  Kosciusko  had  skilfully  fortified  their  camp 
with  batteries  and  redoubts.  Burgoyne  felt  that 
the  time  for  desperate  fighting  had  now  come,  and 
it  seemed  to  him  that  the  American  position  might 
be  turned  and  carried  by  an  attack  upon  its  left 
flank.  On  the  morning  of  the  19th,  he  advanced 
through  the  woods,  with  the  centre  of  his  army, 
toward  the  point  where  the  Quaker  road  passes 
Bemis  Heights.  The  right  wing,  under  Fraser, 
proceeded  somewhat  more  circuitously  toward  the 
same  point,  the  plan  being  that  they  should  join 
forces  and  strike  the  rear  of  the  American  camp, 
while  Riedesel  and  Phillips,  with  the  left  wing  and 
the  artillery,  marching  down  the  river  road,  should 
assail  it  in  front.  Three  heavy  guns,  announcing 
to  the  left  wing  the  junction  of  Burgoyne  and 
Fraser,  were  to  give  the  signal  for  a 

First  battle  at  *?  . ° 

Freeman’s  general  assault.  American  scouts,  lurk- 

Farm,  Sept.  ° 

19;  indecisive,  mg  among  the  upper  branches  of  tall 
trees  that  grew  on  steep  hillsides,  presently  caught 
glimpses  of  bright  scarlet  flitting  through  the 
green  depths  of  the  forest,  while  the  long  sunbeams 
that  found  their  way  through  the  foliage  sent  back 


FIRST  BATTLE  AT  FREEMAN'S  FARM 

September  19,  1777 


*#*  LlBRtl ly 

"""“wr  niuw 


SARATOGA. 


327 


quick  burning  flashes  from  a thousand  bayonets. 
By  noon  the  course  of  the  British  march  and  their 
plan  of  attack  had  been  fully  deciphered,  and  the 
intelligence  was  carried  to  Arnold,  who  commanded 
the  left  wing  of  the  American  army.  Gates  ap- 
pears to  have  been  unwilling  to  let  any  of  the 
forces  descend  from  their  strong  position ; but  the 
fiery  Arnold  urged  and  implored,  until  he  got  per- 
mission to  take  Morgan’s  riflemen  and  Dearborn’s 
infantry,  and  go  forth  to  attack  the  enemy.  Ar- 
nold’s advance,  under  Morgan,  first  fell  upon  Bur- 
goyne’s  advance,  at  Freeman’s  Farm,  and  checked 
its  progress.  Fraser  then,  hearing  the  musketry, 
turned  eastward  to  the  rescue,  while  Arnold,  mov- 
ing  upon  Fraser’s  left,  sought  to  cut  him  asunder 
from  Burgoyne.  He  seemed  to  be  winning  the 
day,  when  he  was  attacked  in  flank  by  Riedesel, 
who  had  hurried  up  from  the  river  road.  Arnold 
had  already  sent  to  Gates  for  reinforcements,  which 
were  refused  him.  Arnold  maintained  that  this" 
was  a gross  blunder  on  the  part  of  the  command- 
ing general,  and  that  with  2,000  more  men  he 
could  now  easily  have  crushed  the  British  centre 
and  defeated  their  army.  In  this  opinion  he  was 
probably  right,  since  even  as  it  was  he  held  his 
own,  in  a desperate  fight,  for  two  hours,  until  dark- 
ness put  an  end  to  the  struggle.  The  losses  on 
each  side  are  variously  estimated  at  from  600  to 
1,000,  or  from  one  fifth  to  one  fourth  of  the  forces 
engaged,  which  indicates  severe  fighting.  Arnold’s 
command  had  numbered  about  3,000,  and  he  had 
been  engaged,  in  the  course  of  the  afternoon,  with 
at  least  4,000  of  Burgoyne’s  army;  yet  all  this 


828 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


while  some  11,000  Americans  — most  of  the  army 
in  short  — had  been  kept  idle  on  Bemis  Heights 
by  the  incompetent  Gates.  Burgoyne  tried  to 
console  himself  with  the  idea  that  he  had  won  a 
victory,  because  his  army  slept  that  night  at  Free- 
man’s Farm;  but  in  his  testimony  given  after- 
ward before  the  House  of  Commons,  he  rightly 
maintained  that  his  plan  of  attack  had  been  utterly 
defeated  by  the  bold  and  skilful  tactics  of  “ Mr.” 
Arnold. 

In  the  dispatches  which  he  now  sent  to  Con- 
gress, Gates  took  to  himself  all  the  credit  of  this 
affair,  and  did  not  even  mention  Arnold’s  name. 
The  army,  however,  rang  with  praise  of  the  fight- 
ing general,  until  Gates,  who  never  could  bear  to 
hear  any  one  but  himself  well  spoken  of,  waxed 
wroth  and  revengeful.  Arnold,  more- 

Quarrel  be*  iit  - 

tween  Gates  over,  freely  blamed  Gates  for  not  sup- 
porting  him,  and  for  refusing  to  renew 
the  battle  on  the  next  morning,  while  the  enemy 
Were  still  disconcerted.  Arnold’s  warm  friendship 
with  Schuyler  gave  further  offence  to  the  com- 
mander ; and  three  days  after  the  battle  he  sought 
to  wreak  his  spite  by  withdrawing  Morgan’s  rifle- 
men and  Dearborn’s  light  infantry  from  Arnold’s 
division.  A fierce  quarrel  ensued  ; and  Gates  told 
Arnold  that  as  soon  as  Lincoln  should  arrive  he 
would  have  no  further  use  for  him,  and  he  might 
go  back  to  Washington’s  camp  as  soon  as  he  liked. 
Arnold,  in  a white  rage,  said  he  would  go,  and 
asked  for  a pass,  which  his  enemy  promptly  gave 
him ; but  after  receiving  it,  second  thoughts  pre- 
vented him  from  going.  All  the  general  officers 


SARATOGA. 


829 


except  Lincoln  — who  seems  to  have  refrained 
from  unwillingness  to  give  umbrage  to  a com- 
mander so  high  in  the  good  graces  of  Massachu- 
setts as  Gates  — united  in  signing  a letter  en- 
treating Arnold  to  remain.  He  had  been  sent 
here  by  Washington  to  aid  the  northern  army 
with  all  his  might,  and  clearly  it  would  be  wrong 
to  leave  it  now,  on  the  eve  of  a decisive  battle. 
So  the  proud,  fiery  soldier,  smarting  under  an  ac- 
cumulation of  injuries,  made  up  his  mind  once 
more  to  swallow  the  affront,  and  wait  for  a chance 
to  make  himself  useful.  He  stayed  in  his  quar- 
ters, awaiting  the  day  of  battle,  though  it  was  not 
clear  how  far  he  was  entitled,  under  the  circum- 
stances, to  exercise  command,  and  Gates  took  no 
more  notice  of  him  than  if  he  had  been  a dog. 

Nothing  more  was  done  for  eighteen  days.  Just 
before  the  crossing  of  the  Hudson  by  the  northern 
army,  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  acting  “ as  circumstances 
may  direct,”  had  planned  an  expedition  up  the 
river  in  aid  of  it ; and  Burgoyne,  hearing  of  this 
the  day  after  the  battle  at  Freeman’s  Farm, 
thought  it  best  to  wait  a while  before  undertaking 
another  assault  upon  the  American  lines.  But 
things  were  swiftly  coming  to  such  a pass  that  it 
would  not  do  to  wait.  On  the  21st,  news  came  to 
the  British  camp  that  a detachment  of  Lincoln’s 
troops  had  laid  siege  to  Ticonderoga,  and,  while 
holding  the  garrison  in  check,  had  captured  sev- 
eral ships  and  taken  300  prisoners.  A 
day  or  two  later  came  the  news  that  these  ^ppScut 
New  Englanders  had  embarked  on  Lake 
George  in  the  ships  they  had  captured,  and  were 


330 


TILE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


cutting  off  the  last  sources  of  supply.  And  now, 
while  even  on  shortest  rations  there  was  barely 
three  weeks’  food  for  the  army,  Lincoln’s  main 
force  appeared  in  front,  thus  swelling  the  num 
bers  of  the  American  army  to  more  than  16,000 
The  case  had  become  as  desperate  as  that  of  the 
Athenians  at  Syracuse  before  their  last  dreadful 
battle  in  the  harbour.  So,  after  eighteen  weary 
days,  no  word  yet  coming  from  Clinton,  the  gal- 
lant Burgoyne  attempted,  by  a furious  effort,  to 
break  through  the  lines  of  an  army  that  now  out- 
numbered him  more  than  three  to  one. 

On  the  morning  of  October  7th,  leaving  the  rest 
of  his  army  in  camp,  Burgoyne  advanced  with 
1,500  picked  men  to  turn  the  American  left.  Small 
as  the  force  was,  its  quality  was  superb,  and  with 
it  were  the  best  commanders,  — Phillips,  Riedesel, 
Fraser,  Balcarras,  and  Ackland.  Such  a compact 
force,  so  ably  led,  might  manoeuvre  quickly.  If, 
on  sounding  the  American  position  on  the  left, 
they  should  find  it  too  strong  to  be  forced,  they 
might  swiftly  retreat.  At  all  events,  the  move- 
ment would  cover  a foraging  party  which  Bur- 
goyne had  sent  out,  — and  this  was  no  small 
matter.  Arnold,  too,  the  fighting  general,  it  was 
reported,  held  no  command ; and  Gates  was  known 
to  be  a sluggard.  Such  thoughts  may  have  helped 

to  shape  the  conduct  of  the  British  com- 
at  Freeman’s  mander  on  this  critical  morning.  But 

Farm,  Oct.  7 ; 6 

the  British  the  scheme  was  swiftly  overturned.  As 

totally  de-  J . 

feated  by  Ar-  the  British  came  on,  their  right  was  sud- 

nold.  ® . 

denly  attacked  by  Morgan,  while  the 
New  England  regulars  with  3,000  New  York  mili- 


SARATOGA. 


331 


tia  assailed  them  in  front.  After  a short,  sharp 
fight  against  overwhelming  numbers,  their  whole 
line  was  broken,  and  Fraser  sought  to  form  a second 
line  a little  farther  back  and  on  the  west  border 
of  Freeman’s  Farm,  though  the  ranks  were  badly 
disordered  and  all  their  cannon  were  lost.  At  this 
moment,  Arnold,  who  had  been  watching  from  the 
heights,  saw  that  a well-directed  blow  might  not 
only  ruin  this  retreating  column,  but  also  shatter 
the  whole  British  army.  Quick  as  thought  he 
sprang  upon  his  horse,  and  galloped  to  the  scene 
of  action.  He  was  greeted  with  deafening  hur- 
rahs, and  the  men,  leaping  with  exultation  at  sight 
of  their  beloved  commander,  rushed  upon  Fraser’s 
half -formed  line.  At  the  same  moment,  while 
Morgan  was  still  pressing  on  the  British  right,  one 
of  his  marksmen  shot  General  Fraser,  who  fell, 
mortally  wounded,  just  as  Arnold  charged  with 
mad  fury  upon  his  line.  The  British,  thus  assailed 
in  front  and  flank,  were  soon  pushed  off  the  field. 
Arnold  next  attacked  Lord  Balcarras,  who  had  re- 
tired behind  intrenchments  at  the  north  of  Free- 
man’s Farm ; but  finding  the  resistance  here  too 
strong,  he  swept  by,  and  charged  upon  the  Cana- 
dian auxiliaries,  who  occupied  a position  just  north 
of  Balcarras,  and  covered  the  left  wing  of  Brey- 
mann’s  forces  at  the  extreme  right  of  the  British 
camp.  The  Canadians  soon  fled,  leaving  Breymann 
uncovered ; and  Arnold  forthwith  rushed  against 
Breymann  on  the  left,  just  as  Morgan,  who  had 
prolonged  his  flanking  march,  assailed  him  on  the 
right.  Breymann  was  slain  and  his  force  routed ; 
the  British  right  wing  was  crushed,  and  their  whole 


332 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


position  taken  in  reverse  and  made  untenable.  Just 
at  this  moment,  a wounded  German  soldier,  lying 
on  the  ground,  took  aim  at  Arnold,  and  slew  his 
horse,  while  the  ball  passed  through  the  general’s 
left  leg,  that  had  been  wounded  at  Quebec,  and 
fractured  the  bone  a little  above  the  knee.  As  Ar~ 
nold  fell,  one  of  his  men  rushed  up  to  bayonet  the 
wounded  soldier  who  had  shot  him,  when  the  pros- 
trate general  cried,  “ For  God’s  sake,  don’t  hurt 
him ; he ’s  a fine  fellow  ! ” The  poor  German  was 
saved,  and  it  has  been  well  said  that  this  was  the 
hour  when  Benedict  Arnold  should  have  died.  His 
fall  and  the  gathering  twilight  stopped  the  progress 
of  the  battle,  but  the  American  victory  was  com- 
plete and  decisive.  Nothing  was  left  for  Burgoyne 
but  to  get  the  wreck  of  his  army  out  of  the  way  as 
quickly  as  possible,  and  the  next  day  he  did  so, 
making  a skilful  retreat  upon  Saratoga,  in  the 
course  of  which,  during  a skirmish,  his  soldiers 
burned  General  Schuyler’s  princely  country-house, 
with  its  barns  and  granaries. 

As  the  British  retreated,  General  Gates  steadily 
closed  in  upon  them  with  his  overwhelming  forces, 
which  now  numbered  nearly  20,000.  Gates  — to 
give  him  due  credit  — knew  how  to  be  active 
after  the  victory,  although,  when  fighting  was  go- 
ing on,  he  was  a general  of  sedentary  habits. 
When  Arnold  rushed  down,  at  the  critical  mo- 
ment, to  complete  the  victory  of  Saratoga,  Gates 
sent  out  Major  Armstrong  to  stop  him.  “ Call 
back  that  fellow,”  said  Gates,  “or  he  wrill  be 
doing  something  rash ! ” But  the  eager  Arnold 
had  outgalloped  the  messenger,  and  came  back 


SECOND  BATTLE  AT  FREEMAN’S  FARM,  CALLED  BATTLE 
OF  BEMIS  HEIGHTS,  OR  OF  STILLWATER 

OCTOBEK  7,  1777 


Tkfc  LfllltifiT 
SFTB£ 

NWSITir  Rf  lUlMHtf 


SARATOGA. 


333 


only  when  his  leg  was  broken  and  the  victory  won. 
In  the  mean  time  Gates  sat  at  his  headquarters, 
forgetful  of  the  battle  that  was  raging  below,  while 
he  argued  the  merits  of  the  American  Revolution 
with  a wounded  British  officer,  Sir  Francis  Clarke, 
who  had  been  brought  in  and  laid  upon  the  corn- 
inlander’s  bed  to  die.  Losing  his  temper  in  the 
discussion,  Gates  called  his  adjutant,  Wilkinson, 
out  of  the  room,  and  asked  him,  “Did  you  ever 
hear  so  impudent  a son  of  a b — h ? ” And  this 
seems  to  have  been  all  that  the  commanding  gen- 
eral contributed  to  the  crowning  victory  of  Sara- 
toga. 


When  Burgoyne  reached  the  place  where  he  had 
crossed  the  Hudson,  he  found  a force  of  8,000 
Americans,  with  several  batteries  of  cannon  occu- 
pying the  hills  on  the  other  side,  so  that  it  was  now 
impossible  to  cross.  A council  of  war  ^ ^ 
decided  to  abandon  all  the  artillery  and  army  is  sur- 
baggage,  push  through  the  woods  by 
night,  and  effect  a crossing  higher  up,  by  Fort  Ed- 
ward, where  the  great  river  begins  to  be  fordable. 
But  no  sooner  had  this  plan  been  made  than  word 
was  brought  that  the  Americans  were  guarding  all 
the  fords,  and  had  also  planted  detachments  in  a 
strong  position  to  the  northward,  between  Fort 
Edward  and  Fort  George.  The  British  army,  in 
short,  was  surrounded.  A brisk  cannonade  was 
opened  upon  it  from  the  east  and  south,  while  Mor- 
gan’s sharpshooters  kept  up  a galling  fire  in  the 
rear.  Some  of  the  women  and  wounded  men  were 
sent  for  safety  to  a large  house  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, where  they  took  refuge  in  the  cellar;  and 


334 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


there  the  Baroness  Biedesel  tells  us  how  she  passed 
six  dismal  nights  and  days,  crouching  in  a corner 
near  the  doorway,  with  her  three  little  children 
clinging  about  her,  while  every  now  and  then, 
with  hideous  crashing,  a heavy  cannon-ball  passed 
through  the  room  overhead.  The  cellar  became 
crowded  with  crippled  and  dying  men.  But  little 
food  could  be  obtained,  and  the  suffering  from 
thirst  was  dreadful.  It  was  only  a few  steps  to 
the  river,  but  every  man  who  ventured  out  with  a 
bucket  was  shot  dead  by  Virginia  rifles  that  never 
missed  their  aim.  At  last  the  brave  wife  of  a 
British  soldier  volunteered  to  go;  and  thus  the 
water  was  brought  again  and  again,  for  the  Amer- 
icans would  not  fire  at  a woman. 

And  now,  while  Burgoyne’s  last  ray  of  hope  was 
dying,  and  while  the  veteran  Phillips  declared  him- 
self heartbroken  at  the  misery  which  he  could  not 
relieve,  where  was  Sir  Henry  Clinton?  He  had 
not  thought  it  prudent  to  leave  New  York  until 
after  the  arrival  of  3,000  soldiers  whom 

sonthbuut  is  ^ie  exPec^e(l  from  England.  These  men 
too  late.  arrived  on  the  29th  of  September,  but 
six  days  more  elapsed  before  Sir  Henry  had  taken 
them  up  the  river  and  landed  them  near  Putnam’s 
headquarters  at  Peekskill.  In  a campaign  of 
three  days  he  outwitted  that  general,  carried  two 
of  the  forts  after  obstinate  resistance,  and  com' 
pelled  the  Americans  to  abandon  the  others ; and 
thus  laid  open  the  river  so  that  British  ships  might 
go  up  to  Albany.  On  the  8th  of  October,  Sir 
Henry  wrote  to  Burgoyne  from  Fort  Montgomery: 
“jNlms  y void , and  nothing  between  us  and  Gates. 


SARATOGA . 


335 


I sincerely  hope  this  little  success  of  ours  will 
facilitate  your  operations.”  This  dispatch  was 
written  on  a scrap  of  very  thin  paper,  and  encased 
in  an  oval  silver  bullet,  which  opened  with  a tiny 
screw  in  the  middle.  Sir  Henry  then  sent  Gen- 
eral Vaughan,  with  several  frigates  and  the  greater 
part  of  his  force,  to  make  all  haste  for  Albany. 
As  they  passed  up  the  river,  the  next  day,  they 
could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  land  and  set  fire 
to  the  pretty  village  of  Kingston,  then  the  seat  of 
the  state  legislature.  George  Clinton,  governor  of 
the  state,  just  retreating  from  his  able  defence  of 
the  captured  forts,  hastened  to  protect  the  village, 
but  came  up  only  in  time  to  see  it  in  flames  from 
one  end  to  the  other.  Just  then  Sir  Henry’s  mes- 
senger, as  he  skulked  by  the  roadside,  was  caught 
and  taken  to  the  governor.  He  had  been  seen 
swallowing  something,  so  they  gave  him  an  emetic, 
and  obtained  the  silver  bullet.  The  dispatch  was 
read ; the  bearer  was  hanged  to  an  apple-tree  ; and 
Burgoyne,  weary  with  waiting  for  the  news  that 
never  came,  at  last  sent  a flag  of  truce  to  General 
Gates,  inquiring  what  terms  of  surrender  would 
be  accepted. 

Gates  first  demanded  an  unconditional  surrender, 
but  on  Burgoyne’s  indignant  refusal  he  consented 
to  make  term»,  and  the  more  readily, 

. i • Burgoyne  suiv 

no  doubt,  since  he  knew  what  had  just  j^ders,  oct. 
happened  in  the  Highlands,  though  his 
adversary  did  not.  After  three  days  of  discussion 
the  terms  of  surrender  were  agreed  upon.  Just  as 
Burgoyne  was  about  to  sign  the  articles,  a Tory 
made  his  way  into  camp  with  hearsay  news  that 


836 


TIIE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION . 


part  of  Clinton's  army  was  approaching  Albany. 
The  subject  was  then  anxiously  reconsidered  by 
the  British  officers,  and  an  interesting  discussion 
ensued  as  to  whether  they  had  so  far  pledged  their 
faith  to  the  surrender  that  they  could  not  in  honour 
draw  back.  The  majority  of  the  council  decided 
that  their  faith  was  irrevocably  pledged,  and  Bur- 
goyne  yielded  to  this  opinion,  though  he  did  not 
share  it,  for  he  did  not  feel  quite  clear  that  the 
rumoured  advance  of  Clinton  could  now  avail  to 
save  him  in  any  case.  In  this  he  was  undoubtedly 
right.  The  American  army,  with  its  daily  accre- 
tions of  militia,  had  now  grown  to  more  than 
20,000,  and  armed  yeomanry  were  still  pouring  in 
by  the  hundred.  A diversion  threatened  by  less 
than  3,000  men,  who  were  still  more  than  fifty 
miles  distant,  could  hardly  have  averted  the  doom 
of  the  British  army.  The  only  effect  which  it  did 
produce  was,  perhaps,  to  work  upon  the  timid 
Gates,  and  induce  him  to  offer  easy  terms  in  or- 
der to  hasten  the  surrender.  On  the  17th  of 
October,  accordingly,  the  articles  were  signed,  ex- 
changed, and  put  into  execution.  It  was  agreed 
that  the  British  army  should  march  out  of  camp 
with  the  honours  of  war,  and  pile  their  arms  at  an 
appointed  place ; they  should  then  march  through 
Massachusetts  to  Boston,  from  which  port  they 
might  sail  for  Europe,  it  being  understood  that  none 
of  them  should  serve  again  in  America  during  the 
war ; all  the  officers  might  retain  their  small  arms, 
and  no  one’s  private  luggage  should  be  searched 
or  molested.  At  Burgoyne’s  earnest  solicitation 
the  American  general  consented  that  these  proceed- 


KS£  HBRIpr 
0F  1 M 
*»F  m.iums 


SARATOGA. 


331 


ings  should  be  styled  a “ convention,”  instead  of 
a surrender,  in  imitation  of  the  famous  Conven- 
tion of  Kloster-Seven,  by  which  the  Duke  of  Cum- 
berland, twenty  years  before,  had  sought  to  save 
his  feelings  while  losing  his  army,  beleaguered  by 
the  French  in  Hanover.  The  soothing  phrase  has 
been  well  remembered  by  British  historians,  who 
to  this  day  continue  to  speak  of  Burgoyne’s  sur~ 
render  as  the  “ Convention  of  Saratoga.” 

In  carrying  out  the  terms  of  the  convention,  both 
Gates  and  his  soldiers  showed  praiseworthy  deli- 
cacy. As  the  British  marched  off  to  a meadow 
by  the  river  side  and  laid  down  their  arms,  the 
Americans  remained  within  their  lines,  refusing 
to  add  to  the  humiliation  of  a gallant  enemy  by 
standing  and  looking;  on.  As  the  disarmed  sol- 
diers  then  passed  by  the  American  lines,  says 
Lieutenant  Anbury,  one  of  the  captured  officers, 
“ I did  not  observe  the  least  disrespect  or  even 
a taunting  look,  but  all  was  mute  astonishment 
and  pity.”  Burgoyne  stepped  up  and  handed  his 
sword  to  Gates,  simply  saying,  “The  fortune  of 
war,  General  Gates,  has  made  me  your  prisoner.” 
The  American  general  instantly  returned  the 
sword,  replying,  “ I shall  always  be  ready  to  tes- 
tify that  it  has  not  been  through  any  fault  of  your 
excellency.”  When  Baron  Riedesel  had  been  pre- 
sented to  Gates  and  the  other  generals,  he  sent 
for  his  wife  and  children.  Set  free  at  last  from 
the  dreadful  cellar,  the  baroness  came  with  some 
trepidation  into  the  enemy’s  camp ; but  the  only 
look  she  saw  upon  any  face  was  one  of  sympathy. 
44  As  I approached  the  tents,”  she  says,  “ a noble- 


338  THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 

looking  gentleman  came  toward  me,  and  took  the 
children  out  of  the  wagon  ; embraced  and  kissed 
them  ; and  then,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  helped 
me  also  to  alight.  . . . Presently  he  said, 4 It  may 
be  embarrassing  to  you  to  dine  with  so  many  gen- 
tlemen. If  you  will  come  with  your  children  to 
my  tent,  I will  give  you  a frugal  meal,  but  one 
that  will  at  least  be  seasoned  with  good  wishes.9 
4 Oh,  sir,9  I cried, 4 you  must  surely  be  a husband 
and  a father,  since  you  show  me  so  much  kind- 
ness ! 9 I then  learned  that  it  was  General  Schuy- 
ler.99 

Schuyler  had  indeed  come,  with  unruffled  soul, 
to  look  on  while  the  fruit  which  he  had  sown,  with 
the  gallant  aid  of  Stark  and  Herkimer,  Arnold 
and  Morgan,  was  plucked  by  an  unworthy  rival. 
He  now  met  Burgoyne,  who  was  naturally  pained 
and  embarrassed  at  the  recollection  of  the  beauti- 
ful house  which  his  men  had  burned  a few  days 
before.  In  a speech  in  the  House  of  Commons, 
some  months  later,  Burgoyne  told  how  Schuyler 
Schuyler’s  received  him.  44 1 expressed  to  General 
magnanimity.  gc}1L1yler^’  sayS  Burgoyne,  44  my  regret 

at  the  event  which  had  happened,  and  the  reasons 
which  had  occasioned  it.  He  desired  me  to  think 
no  more  of  it,  saying  that  the  occasion  justified  it, 
according  to  the  rules  of  war.  . . . He  did  more : 
he  sent  an  aide-de-camp  to  conduct  me  to  Albany, 
in  order,  as  he  expressed  it,  to  procure  me  better 
quarters  than  a stranger  might  be  able  to  find. 
This  gentleman  conducted  me  to  a very  elegant 
house,  and,  to  my  great  surprise,  presented  me  to 
Mrs.  Schuyler  and  her  family;  and  in  this  gen- 


SARATOGA . 


339 


eral’s  house  I remained  during  my  whole  stay  at 
Albany,  with  a table  of  more  than  twenty  covers 
for  me  and  my  friends,  and  every  other  possible 
demonstration  of  hospitality.”  Madame  Riedesel 
was  also  invited  to  stay  with  the  Sohuylers ; and 
when  first  she  arrived  in  the  house,  one  of  her  little 
girls  exclaimed,  “ Oh,  mamma  ! Is  this  the  palace 
that  papa  was  to  have  when  he  came  to  America  ? ” 
As  the  Schuylers  understood  German,  the  baroness 
coloured,  but  all  laughed  pleasantly,  and  put  her  at 
ease. 

With  the  generosity  and  delicacy  thus  shown 
alike  by  generals  and  soldiers,  it  is  painful,  though 
instructive,  to  contrast  the  coarseness  and  bad 
faith  with  which  Congress  proceeded  to  treat  the 
captured  army.  The  presence  of  the  troops  in  and 
about  Boston  was  felt  to  be  a hardship,  and  Gen- 
eral Heath,  who  commanded  there,  wrote  to  Wash 
ington,  saying  that  if  they  were  to  stay  Badfaithof 
till  cold  weather  he  hardly  knew  how  to  C011^88* 
find  shelter  and  fuel  for  them.  Washington  re- 
plied that  they  would  not  be  likely  to  stay  long, 
since  it  was  clearly  for  Howe’s  interest  to  send 
them  back  to  England  as  soon  as  possible,  in  order 
that  they  might  replace  other  soldiers  who  would 
be  sent  over  to  America  for  the  spring  campaign. 
Congress  caught  up  this  suggestion  with  avidity, 
and  put  it  to  uses  the  furthest  possible  removed 
from  Washington’s  meaning.  When  Sir  William 
Howe  proposed  Newport  as  a point  from  which 
the  soldiers  might  more  speedily  be  shipped, 
Washington,  for  sound  and  obvious  reasons,  urged 


340 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION . 


that  there  should  he  no  departure  from  the  strict 
letter  of  the  convention.  Congress  forthwith  not 
only  acted  upon  this  suggestion  so  far  as  to  refuse 
Sir  William  Howe’s  request,  but  it  went  on  gra- 
tuitously and  absurdly  to  charge  the  British  gen- 
eral with  bad  faith.  It  was  hinted  that  he  secretly 
intended  to  bring  the  troops  to  New  York  for  im- 
mediate service,  in  defiance  of  the  convention,  and 
Congress  proceeded  to  make  this  imputed  treach- 
ery the  ground  for  really  false  dealing  on  its  own 
part.  When  Lord  Howe’s  transports  reached 
Boston,  it  was  not  only  ordered  that  no  troops 
should  be  allowed  to  embark  until  all  the  accounts 
for  their  subsistence  should  have  been  settled,  but 
it  was  also  required  that  these  accounts  should  be 
liquidated  in  gold.  In  the  instructions  given  to 
General  Washington  a year  before,  a refusal  on 
the  part  of  anybody  to  receive  the  Continental 
paper  money  was  to  be  treated  as  a high  misde- 
meanour. Now  Congress  refused  to  take  its  own 
money,  which  had  depreciated  till  it  was  worth 
barely  thirty  cents  on  a dollar.  The  captured 
army  was  supplied  with  provisions  and  fuel  that 
were  paid  for  by  General  Heath  with  Continental 
paper,  and  now  Congress  insisted  that  General 
Burgoyne  should  make  his  repayment  dollar  for 
dollar  in  British  gold,  worth  three  times  as  much. 
In  fairness  to  the  delegates,  we  may  admit  that  in 
all  probability  they  did  not  realize  the  baseness  of 
this  conduct.  They  were  no  doubt  misled  by  one 
of  those  wonderful  bits  of  financial  sophistry  by 
which  the  enacting  mind  of  our  countrymen  has  so 
often  been  hopelessly  confused.  In  an  amusing 


SARATOGA. 


341 


letter  to  Washington,  honest  General  Heath 
naively  exclaims,  “ What  an  opinion  must  General 
Burgoyne  have  of  the  authority  of  these  states,  to 
suppose  that  his  money  would  be  received  at  any 
higher  rate  than  our  own  in  public  payment! 
Such  payment  would  at  once  be  depreciating  our 
currency  with  a witness.”  Washington  was  se- 
riously annoyed  and  mortified  by  these  vagaries^ 
■ — the  more  so  that  he  was  at  this  very  time  en- 
deavouring to  arrange  with  Howe  a general  cartel 
for  the  exchange  of  prisoners  ; and  he  knew  that 
the  attempt  to  make  thirty  cents  equal  to  a dollar 
would,  as  he  said,  “ destroy  the  very  idea  of  a car- 
tel.” 

While  these  discussions  were  going  on,  Congress, 
like  the  wicked  king  in  the  fairy  tale,  anxious  to 
impose  conditions  unlikely  to  be  fulfilled,  de- 
manded that  General  Burgoyne  should  make  out  a 
descriptive  list  of  all  the  officers  and  soldiers  in  his 
army,  in  order  that  if  any  of  them  should  there- 
after be  found  serving  against  the  United  States 
they  might  be  punished  accordingly.  As  no  such 
provision  was  contained  in  the  convention,  upon 
the  faith  of  which  Burgoyne  had  surrendered,  he 
naturally  regarded  the  demand  as  insulting,  and 
at  first  refused  to  comply  with  it.  He  afterwards 
yielded  the  point,  in  his  eagerness  to  liberate  his 
soldiers  ; but  meanwhile,  in  a letter  to  Gates,  he 
had  incautiously  let  fall  the  expression,  “ The  pub 
lick  faith  is  broke  [sic]  ; ” and  this  remark,  com 
ing  to  the  ears  of  Congress,  was  immediately  laid 
hold  of  as  a pretext  for  repudiating  the  convention 
altogether.  It  was  argued  that  Burgoyne  had 


B42 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


charged  the  United  States  with  bad  faith,  in  order 
to  have  an  excuse  for  repudiating  the  convention 
on  his  own  part ; and  on  the  8th  of  January,  Con- 
gress accordingly  resolved,  44  that  the  embarkation 
of  Lieutenant-General  Burgoyne  and  the  troops  un- 
der his  command  be  suspended  till  a distinct  and 
explicit  ratification  of  the  Convention  of  Saratoga 
shall  be  properly  notified  by  the  court  of  Great 
Britain  to  Congress.”  Now  as  the  British  govern- 
ment could  not  give  the  required  ratification  with- 
out implicitly  recognizing  the  independence  of  the 
United  States,  no  further  steps  were  taken  in  the 
matter,  the  44  publick  faith  ” was  really  broken, 
and  the  captured  army  was  never  sent  home. 

In  this  wretched  affair,  Congress  deliberately 
sacrificed  principle  to  policy.  It  refused,  on  paltry 
pretexts,  to  carry  out  a solemn  engagement  which 
had  been  made  by  its  accredited  agent ; and  it  did 
so  simply  through  the  fear  that  the  British  army 
might  indirectly  gain  a possible  reinforcement.  Its 
The  behaviour  conduct  can  be  justified  upon  no  grounds 
wiSpTyio-  save  such  as  would  equally  justify  firing 
oxcusabie.  Up0n  flags  of  truce.  Nor  can  it  be  pal- 
liated even  upon  the  lowest  grounds  of  expediency, 
for,  as  it  has  been  well  said,  44  to  a people  strug- 
gling for  political  life  the  moral  support  derivable 
from  the  maintenance  of  honour  and  good  faith  was 
worth  a dozen  material  victories.”  This  sacrifice 
of  principle  to  policy  has  served  only  to  call  down 
the  condemnation  of  impartial  historians,  and  to 
dim  the  lustre  of  the  magnificent  victory  which  the 
valour  of  our  soldiers  and  the  self-devotion  of  our 
people  had  won  in  the  field.  It  was  one  out  of 


SARATOGA. 


343 


many  instances  which  show  that,  under  any  form 
of  government,  the  moral  sense  of  the  governing 
body  is  likely  to  fall  far  below  the  highest  moral 
standard  recognized  in  the  community. 

The  captured  army  was  never  sent  home.  The 
officers  were  treated  as  prisoners  of  war,  and  from 
time  to  time  were  exchanged.  Burgoyne  was  al- 
lowed to  go  to  England  in  the  spring, 

_ . b ...  \ What  became 

and  while  still  a prisoner  on  parole,  he  ofthecap- 

...  . tured  army. 

took  his  seat  in  Parliament,  and  became 
conspicuous  among  the  defenders  of  the  American 
cause.  The  troops  were  detained  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Boston  until  the  autumn  of  1778,  when 
they  were  all  transferred  to  Charlottesville  in  Vir- 
ginia. Here  a rude  village  was  built  on  the  brow 
of  a pleasant  ridge  of  hills,  and  gardens  were  laid 
out  and  planted.  Much  kind  assistance  was  ren- 
dered in  all  this  work  by  Thomas  Jefferson,  who 
was  then  living  close  by,  on  his  estate  at  Monti- 
cello,  and  did  everything  in  his  power  to  make 
things  comfortable  for  soldiers  and  officers.  Two 
years  afterward,  when  Virginia  became  the  seat 
of  war,  some  of  them  were  removed  to  Winchester 
in  the  Shenandoah  valley,  to  Frederick  in  Mary- 
land, and  to  Lancaster  in  Pennsylvania.  Those 
who  wished  to  return  to  Europe  were  exchanged 
or  allowed  to  escape.  The  greater  number,  espe- 
cially of  the  Germans,  preferred  to  stay  in  this 
country  and  become  American  citizens.  Before 
the  end  of  1783  they  had  dispersed  in  all  direc- 
tions. 

Such  was  the  strange  sequel  of  a campaign 
which,  whether  we  consider  the  picturesqueness  of 


844 


THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 


its  incidents  or  the  magnitude  of  its  results,  was  one 
of  the  most  memorable  in  the  history  of  mankind. 
Its  varied  scenes,  framed  in  landscapes  of  grand 
and  stirring  beauty,  had  brought  together  such 
types  of  manhood  as  the  feathered  Mohawk  sachem, 
the  helmeted  Brunswick  dragoon,  and  the  blue- 
frocked  yeoman  of  New  England,  — types  of  an- 
cient barbarism,  of  the  militancy  bequeathed  from 
the  Middle  Ages,  and  of  the  industrial  democracy 
that  is  to  possess  and  control  the  future  of  the 
world.  These  men  had  mingled  in  a deadly  strug- 
gle for  the  strategic  centre  of  the  Atlantic  coast 
of  North  America,  and  now  the  fight  had  ended 
in  the  complete  and  overwhelming  defeat  of  the 
forces  of  George  III.  Four  years,  indeed,  — four 
years  of  sore  distress  and  hope  deferred,  — were 
yet  to  pass  before  the  fruits  of  this  great  victory 
could  be  gathered.  The  independence  of  the 
United  States  was  not  yet  won ; but  the  triumph 
at  Saratoga  set  in  motion  a train  of  events  from 
which  the  winning  of  independence  was  destined 
surely  to  follow. 


